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I . . 










DORCAS 












































































































































































DORCAS 

The Daughter of Faustina 


BY 

NATHAN C. KOUNS 

M 

AUTHOR OF “ ARIUS THE LIBYAN ” 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

JEAN BEAMAN COOK-SMITH 

AND 

WILL H. LOW 


NEW YORK 

THE ALICE HARRIMAN COMPANY 

1911 



Copyright, 1884 

By OUR CONTINENT PUBLISHING CO. 


Copyright, 1911 

By N. E. MORSE AND M. M. BUNTING 

Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London 
All Rights Reserved 


TRANS '• r , u0j , 
OOPYftiOHf vir i , 

^ iAN i 1 3 



PREFACE 


TN the Catacombs of Rome is an ancient tomb 
■** wherein repose the mortal remains of some 
Christian martyr. A slab of white marble closes 
the little crypt cut out of the rock to be her sar- 
cophagus, and upon this slab a careful, but un- 
skilled hand hath cut an inscription that readeth 
after the fashion shown in this book; the Eng- 
lish of which is, “ Here lies Faustina. In peace.” 
The name is Latin, the inscription is in the 
Greek tongue, the word Shalom or “ Peace ” is 
in Hebrew. The character in the lower middle 
portion of the slab indicates that she died a martyr 
to her faith, and the urn at the left is a symbol of 
Christian burial. Who was she? How died 
she ? When ? 

Musing alone beside this last resting-place of 
one who died for Jesus centuries ago, my lamp 
flickered and expired; and then in the subterranean 
5 


6 


PREFACE 


darkness of the catacombs the dead forms around 
me seemed to live again, re-peopling the past in 
which they lived, and loved, and suffered, and 
what I beheld, as in a vision, I seek now to repro- 
duce in this story of Anti-Christ. Those of 
whom I learned it knew whereof they spoke, and 
the reader may rely upon the verity of all things 
that are set forth as facts. 


CHAPTER 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Preface 

I Dorcas the Daughter of Faustina . . . . ii 

II Toga Virilis . 18 

III In Which Dorcas Asketh Questions ... 28 

IV In Which Dorcas Runneth Away .... 47 

V In Which Dorcas Heareth the Story of Faus- 
tina 68 

VI The Swaddling Bands of Anti-Christ ... 78 
VII Which Showeth How Marcellus Conducted 

Himself 91 

VIII Justice to a Christian After the High Roman 

Fashion 99 

IX A Fair Contract for a Pagan 109 

X " He That Seeketh Findeth ” 126 

XI In Which Phcebe Redeemeth Her Promise . 141 
XII In Which the Gospel is Stated — As It Was 

in A. D. 312 158 

XIII Birds, Beasts and Oracles, That Testify . . 172 


XIV In Which Marcellus Discovereth a Barbarian 188 
XV In Which There is Some Talk of Marriage . 196 
XVI In Which Eusebius Offereth the Swaddling- 

bands Unto the Church 207 

XVII In Which the Barbarian is Civilized . . .219 

XVIII In Which Eusebius Showeth the Swaddling 

Bands of Constantine 229 

XIX In Which There is a Death and Also a Mar- 
riage 244 

XX Finis 250 


7 


















































DORCAS 











































* 


























DORCAS 

DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 
CHAPTER I 

DORCAS, THE DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 

TN the year 310, a villa stood upon the Appian 
** Way in the suburbs of the City of Rome, which 
had been builded in the usual fashion of the better 
class of Roman houses of that period, and was 
owned and occupied by the Vice-Prefect Varus, 
whose command constituted a portion of the city 
guards, and was usually stationed near the 
Campus Martius. This man, a relative of that 
Varus who had been terribly defeated by the 
German barbarians in the forest of Teutoberg, 
in the days when Tiberius was emperor, and had 
fallen upon his own sword and died because of 
his mortification over that defeat, was a perfect 
type of the Roman officer, devoted to military life, 
thoroughly trained to his inhuman profession, and 
incapable of judging of the right or wrong of 
anything unless some military order or custom 
had first decided it. In other words, he knew 


11 


12 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


no sense of duty except to conform to military 
usages, and obey such orders as he might receive 
from his superiors; yet he was not narrow- 
minded, weak nor ignorant. He was, indeed, a 
man of large intelligence and of considerable 
literary attainments. He had served for many 
years in Italy and in foreign lands, and being be- 
yond the meridian of life and somewhat disabled 
by honorable wounds, he had obtained a lucrative 
position in the legions stationed about the city, 
the duties of which were so light that he passed 
the greater portion of his time at the villa with 
his wife Calpha, his son Marcellus and the throng 
of domestic slaves usually found about an opulent 
Roman’s house. 

The house of Varus stood back a short distance 
from the splendid highway, and was surrounded 
by extensive grounds laid off in circles, rectangles 
and irregular forms, bordered with shrubs and 
flowers and cultivated in vineyards, orchards and 
gardens. Here and there amid the foliage of 
the trees gleamed numerous marble statues, the 
lovely Venus, the reeling Bacchus, the sovereign 
Jupiter, Silence, with marble finger on his marble 
lips, and numerous other deities. 

The son of Varus was the model of a Roman 
youth, tall, agile, athletic and almost singularly 
handsome. In a short time he would be of age, 
and through his father’s influence he had already 


DORCAS 


13 


obtained an appointment as centurion to take ef- 
fect upon the day that he should “ burn his 
beard ” and assume the virile toga. 

The Vice-Prefect sat in the shade one day in 
front of his open portico, tracing words and 
figures with the point of his sword in the sand and 
gravel of the broad walk leading from the house 
to the highway, when up from the marble stile 
upon the road a tall and swarthy man approached, 
leading a young girl by the hand. So preoccupied 
was Varus that he did not notice their coming 
until the tall man’s shadow fell upon the figure 
he was making in the sand, and upon raising his 
head to see whom his visitors might be, received 
a respectful salute, and the man said in the Greek 
language, then much used at Rome: 

“ Art thou the Vice-Prefect Varus? ” 

“ Yea,” answered Varus; “ who art thou? ” 

“ I am Epaphras, an Israelite, and the maiden 
is Dorcas, the daughter of Faustina, whom I have 
brought to thee because I heard in the city that 
thou desirest to employ a damsel who can read 
and speak the Greek and the Latin, and is not 
wholly uninstructed in the Hebrew tongue.” 

“Yea, yea!” cried the Vice-Prefect, his 
bronzed face lighting up with pleasure, “ I greatly 
desire to hire such a girl, and will pay liberally 
for her services. We have four millions of peo- 
ple in holy Rome, and the greater part of them 


i 4 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


are slaves, yet is it difficult to obtain a slave fit 
for the duties I wish done, the few of them who 
are sufficiently educated being kept by the senators 
and patricians in the city. But this girl is almost 
a child; can she write as well as speak the Greek 
and the Latin? ” 

“ Yea, verily,” Epaphras said; “for the 
maiden is fifteen years of age, and hardly knoweth 
which may be her native tongue, as she hath been 
accustomed to use them both alike from her very 
childhood.” 

“ Then I shall mark this a lucky day,” said 
Varus, “ for my sight faileth me so that I read 
with difficulty, and it is a dreary thing to stay all 
day at home listening to the silly chattering of 
Calpha and her women. Name the price, Jew, 
and believe thou that the girl hath found a 
friend indeed if she can read and write as thou 
sayest.” 

“ The price of her services,” said Epaphras, 
“ is a secondary consideration, and may safely be 
left to thy liberality; but thou art an honorable 
Roman, and before I commit the maiden to thy 
care, there are certain conditions for the per- 
formance of which thou must pledge me thy 
word.” 

Then the brows of Varus contracted impa- 
tiently, and he sharply answered: 

“ Surely no Roman hath ever bargained with a 


DORCAS 


i5 


Jew but that he is bound by some unreasonable 
conditions. But what are thine?” 

“ Naught unreasonable, I hope,” replied 
Epaphras. “ The maiden is not a slave, but is 
free-born, and the conditions are only that she 
shall not be questioned nor argued with concern- 
ing our religion; only that she shall have the 
Seventh day for her own, without let or hin- 
drance; only that she shall not be required to 
obey any orders save thine and those of thy wife.” 

“ These are but just and reasonable conditions,” 
said Varus, “ and I give thee my sacred word 
that they shall be faithfully observed. Of course, 
no sensible Roman ever expects a Jew to abandon 
the severe and inhuman tenets of his religion, or 
to permit his children to do so, in order to learn 
the more reasonable and delightful worship of 
the gods of Rome; but chiefly desire the girl to 
read and write for me, and if she should some- 
times bring a small amphora from the cellar and 
serve me with a little wine, that is the only other 
duty I shall require of her.” 

“ Then I do place her under thy protection, and 
will take my leave.” 

“ But where and when wilt thou collect her 
wages?” said Varus. 

“ Give unto her weekly whatever thou wilt,” 
said Epaphras. “ A good home with reputable 
people, and kind treatment, is more to the maiden 


1 6 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


and to me than wages, although we are but 
poor.” 

“ And wilt thou trust a child with money?” 
asked Varus. 

“ Yea,” replied Epaphras, his dark face flush- 
ing vividly, “ I would trust this child with un- 
counted money — with my life, if need be. If 
she do ever steal from thee, if she do ever lie to 
thee, if thou findest her in anything lacking truth, 
integrity and modesty, take out thine anger upon 
me with sword or stave, or what thou wilt! ” 

“ What is thy name, child? ” asked Varus. 

“ Dorcas, the daughter of Faustina,” answered 
she. 

“ If thou dost merit the confidence and praise 
this Israelite bestows upon thee, Dorcas, count it a 
happy day which brought thee to my house.” 

Then, turning to Epaphras, he said, “ Fare- 
well.” 

And Epaphras, with a low bow, said, “ Fare- 
well, Vice-Prefect ! ” But ere he turned away 
Epaphras clasped the hand of Dorcas, kissed her 
fair white brow, and, with a glance of unutter- 
able tenderness, whispered, “ The Lord preserve 
thee, child ! ” to which, in a like subdued tone, 
she answered, “And thee, also, father.” 

Then saying, “ Follow me,” Varus led Dorcas 
into the atrium, or central hall, into which the 
numerous rooms of the house all opened, and 


DORCAS 


i7 


thence into a small room on the left, which he 
called his library; and seating himself comfort- 
ably, he placed in her hands some leaves of the 
Anabasis, saying, “ Be thou seated, and read this 
for me.” 

And thus was Dorcas installed in her humble 
but pleasant position in the villa of the Vice-Pre- 
fect Varus. 


CHAPTER II 


TOGA yiRILIS 

npHE months passed swiftly and quietly, and 
the day came upon which Marcellus was to 
celebrate his coming of age, after the manner of 
the golden youth of Rome; and, although he had 
been sending messages to his mother and orders 
to the slaves for days before, on the morning of 
the eventful day he came on horseback to the villa 
to see for himself that the preparations for the 
revel were properly made, and to report that the 
soothsayers had announced that all omens and 
auguries were auspicious for celebrating an event 
so important in the life of a young gentleman 
of the Imperial City. The young man leaped 
from his horse at the stile in front of the house, 
and left the beast as if he knew there must be 
some one there to take charge of him, some one 
of the slaves to whom the benevolent gods of 
Rome had given life only that they might minister 
to the conveniences, passions and pleasures of 
those upper classes for whom the world was made. 
The young man came swinging up the broad 
gravel walk with that swift, martial tread which 
18 


TOGA VIRILIS 


19 


the thorough military training that his father had 
given to him seemed to have made his natural 
gait; for, careless about many things, the Vice- 
Prefect had insisted, with steady and inflexible de- 
termination, that the boy must be a thorough 
soldier, and had never permitted any excuses to 
avail for evading daily military exercises; and, 
indeed, the youth’s martial spirit had seconded his 
father’s settled purpose so well that the boy was 
as proficient in the tactics, and even in the military 
laws which prevailed in the armies of the empire, 
as any veteran. He came rushing into the house 
with a boisterous and half-boyish good humor and 
impatience, nodded courteously to his mother, 
Calpha, kissed some of the slave-girls in her pres- 
ence, and hugged and tousled others until they 
ran off screaming and laughing to avoid the em- 
braces of the romping youth, and then began to 
make minute and rapid inquiries after almost every 
item of the preparations in progress for the com- 
ing feast, and especially as to the quality of snow 
which had been brought from Mount Soracte, 
and as to the particular amphoras of wine that 
had been packed away in it. 

During the few months she had been at the 
villa Dorcas had so greatly pleased the Vice-Pre- 
fect by her reading and writing, and by her 
pleasant but always cautious conversation, that he 
felt the girl to be indispensable to his comfort, 


20 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


and never permitted anything to interfere with the 
services she was accustomed to render him. But 
whenever any duty of his official position required 
his presence in the city she was left very much to 
her own devices and inclinations; and generally 
she went into the atrium and volunteered to aid 
Calpha and the slaves in the preparation or spin- 
ning of wool and flax, in preserving various fruits, 
and in other domestic operations; and she was 
always so quiet, cheerful and neat that her aid 
was exceedingly acceptable. But both Calpha 
and the slaves observed that whenever their talk 
drifted into the licentiousness and immodesty 
which were common in the gossipings of all Ro- 
man women, high and low, the girl at once be- 
came silent, her sweet young face grew very grave, 
and if it were at all convenient to leave the atrium 
she would do so immediately; but her uniform 
kindness to all of them prevented them from re- 
senting her manifest loathing of subjects which al- 
ways formed the staple of their talk, and the ten- 
derness and reverence which were constantly mani- 
fest in her deportment toward Calpha, the wife 
of Varus, the mother of Marcellus, the mistress 
of these slaves, was a thing so new and pleasant 
to that most reputable matron that she wondered 
how and where the girl had acquired manners 
that seemed naturally to exhibit a degree of re- 
spect for herself which no Roman mother ever 


TOGA VIRILIS 


21 


expected or received from her own daughters — 
a reverence that was not based upon fear, like 
that of her domestics, but that seemed to be spon- 
taneous, loving and sincere. 

Indeed, while the Vice-Prefect Varus was a 
better husband, a better father, a better master, 
and, in almost every respect, a better man than 
any other Roman of his rank and wealth, Dorcas 
had dwelt at the villa but a short time before she 
perceived, young as she was, that under the social 
and political system of the empire the wives of 
even the most reputable Romans were only a 
better sort of slaves, in spite of the vain shadow 
of respect which the law threw over them. Cal- 
pha, in every respect a very worthy and sensible 
woman, stood somewhat higher in the estimation 
of her husband and son (themselves most excel- 
lent Romans) than would a mare that had been 
dam to a very fine colt, or a slave that had chanced 
to render some extraordinary service. The single 
advantage that the wife had over the other do- 
mestics consisted in the fact that her legal rela- 
tion to the master of the house made her offspring 
legitimate, and also gave her power to control her 
husband’s other slaves. 

Not knowing that the young man had come 
home, Dorcas went into the atrium, as usual, to 
offer such aid as she might be able to render in the 
doing of their domestic tasks; and Marcellus no 


22 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


sooner saw her than, gazing upon her with undis- 
guised admiration, he cried aloud: “ Dioscuri 1 
but the Vice-Prefect hath shown marvelous good 
taste in the purchase of such a new slave as that! 
And do thou remember, girl, that to prevent any 
growth of jealousy upon the part of Calpha 
against my most reputable father, from this day 
I claim thee for mine own.” Then, darting for- 
ward, he seized her hand in one of his own, and 
catching her about the waist with the other, he 
kissed her before she could break from his grasp, 
while he rattled away in praise of her beauty: 
“ By Aphrodite 1 thou art beautiful ! Thy brow 
is fairer than a marble god’s! Thine eyes are 
bluer and deeper than the summer sky ! Thy lips 
are redder than the scarlet cherries ! Thy cheeks 
are pinker than the sea shell’s delicatest bloom ! ” 
But before the delighted and laughing youth had 
finished his panegyric Dorcas had glided out of his 
embrace, and sprang away behind his mother’s 
chair, and stood there gazing, flushed and in- 
dignant, upon the handsome youth, but silent still. 
“ Come thou hither,” said Marcellus, “ for thou 
shalt be fast friend with me. By foam-born 
Venus, no other Roman hath so beautiful a slave, 
and thou shalt be my pet and favorite henceforth I 
Come hither, girl! ” 

But Dorcas raised her queenly little head, and, 
gazing with quiet self-possession into the young 


TOGA VIRILIS 


23 


man’s eager face, in low and modulated tones as 
sweet as flute-notes, answered thus : “ Thou art 

greatly mistaken, centurion, for I am not a slave, 
but born as free as thou art; and I hope that thy 
conduct, which seemeth to have grown out of this 
mistake, will never be repeated.” 

“What, then, art thou doing here?” asked 
Marcellus. 

“ I serve the Vice-Prefect Varus upon a con- 
tract, one condition of which is that I am subject 
to the orders of no one in his house except his own 
and those of thy mother, Calpha ! ” 

“ Then thou, Calpha, command this beautiful 
hireling that she come hither and make friends 
with me.” 

“ Nay! ” said Calpha. “ I will in no wise in- 
terfere with thy father’s wishes, by which the 
maiden is to be free of all control; for he is mar- 
velously attached to Dorcas. And besides,” she 
continued with a sly smile, “ to me it seemeth that 
one of the handsomest youths in holy Rome should 
scorn to implore his mother’s help to win the dam- 
sel’s favor! ” 

“ I will not do so,” said Marcellus; “ but by the 
gods of Rome, I will have her, and win her for 
myself, too ! For there is no girl of her class 
in the Imperial City that would hesitate to put all 
her wages into an offering to Venus to gain so 
much of my praise and admiration as thou dost 


24 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 

scornfully reject.” But Dorcas had quietly left 
the room, nor did Marcellus see her again that 
day, although he was here, there and everywhere, 
bustling around and meddling with the arrange- 
ments for the coming feast, now and then exhibit- 
ing toward the young female slaves a tactual fa- 
miliarity and kindness which showed that his boast 
of being a favorite was no extravagance, and 
which, alas! also showed that the sacred delicacy 
which belongs to womanhood was unknown and 
unrecognized even in a household so very respect- 
able as that of the Vice-Prefect. 

About nightfall the young friends of the cen- 
turion began to arrive, and many of them were 
accompanied by favorite slaves or other feminine 
friends. Soon the customary rites began with the 
burning of the beard of Marcellus, with libations 
to the Lares and Penates, the household gods of 
Rome, with other libations and offerings to Venus 
and to Mars, and with strange ceremonies which 
the later Romans had learned of Egypt in honor 
of Anubis, Astarte, and Cybele ! 

Then the banquet began, in which the young 
men reclined around the table spread in the great 
hall, tasted delicacies which were of themselves 
enough to prove that almost every clime and peo- 
ple under heaven paid tribute to the luxury as 
well as the power of Rome. Each separate 
course of the feast was followed or accompanied 


TOGA VIRILIS 


25 


by liberal draughts of different wines, and the 
girls who reclined with the young gentlemen at 
table (a privilege from which their own sisters, 
and all matrons, were jealously excluded by Ro- 
man customs) were not behind their masculine 
associates in eating or in drinking, or in wit and 
ribaldry. Hour after hour the feast continued, 
the wine circulated more and more freely, the 
jest became broader, the conversation louder and 
more unrestrained, and the song and glance more 
reckless, until far into the night, both sexes seemed 
to have reached the last stages of inebriety and in- 
decency; and some of them were still lying around 
the tables in the hall, some had wandered out 
into the surrounding grounds, and, here and there 
upon the rustic benches or the pleasanter couch of 
grass, slept off the wild debauch. It was a 
drunken revelry that would have disgraced a Ro- 
man in the earlier and better days of Rome, but 
which at that era was the universal custom among 
the wealthy classes, not supposed to merit censure 
at all, and which was regarded as the usual and 
proper thing by the Vice-Prefect and his wife, 
whose only concern was to see that the wants of 
the guests were properly supplied, and that any 
approach to quarreling was promptly checked be- 
fore it could assume the features of a brawl. It 
was a fair index to the state of private morals 
throughout the empire, and especially at Rome. 


26 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


These young men were not lost to the sense of 
shame that in a better age would necessarily have 
sprung from such luxurious and unmanly excesses 
because they were bad men or worse than other 
Romans of their class, but they were entirely de- 
void of any sense of shame because they did not 
know that there was anything in these customs and 
conduct of which to be ashamed. They were only 
acting in accordance with the teachings of their age 
and country, and saw nothing disreputable to their 
own characters, or unacceptable to the gods, in 
any feature of their revelry. 

Dorcas had declined the request of Calpha that 
she would remain in the atrium, but, seated at one 
of the small windows characteristic of Roman 
architecture at the far end of one of the little 
rooms which opened into the hall, herself in dark- 
ness almost, she gazed with vivid interest into the 
illuminated room, watching the rites and sub- 
sequent revelry, until, with burning cheek and 
eye, she slipped out of the window quietly and 
sought the solitude of her own chamber, adjoining 
that which Varus called his library, and repeated, 
half in reverie, in the splendid language of the 
Greeks, words that seemed to be practically illus- 
trated by the scenes she had just witnessed: 

“ Now the works of the flesh are manifest, 
idolatry, drunkenness, revelings and such like; of 
which I tell you before, as I have also told you 


TOGA VIRILIS 


27 


in times past, that they which do such things shall 
not inherit the kingdom of God. But the fruit 
of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, 
gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance; 
against such there is no law. And they that are 
Christ’s have crucified the flesh with the affections 
and lusts ! ” 

But continued she, musingly, “ The centurion 
is so young, so handsome, so full of life, and joy, 
and kindness, and he knows no better than he 
does ! ” 


CHAPTER III 


IN WHICH DORCAS ASKETH QUESTIONS 



HE next morning, at a late hour, the revelers 


“■* whom choice had detained at the villa, and 
those whom vinous excesses had rendered inca- 
pable of making their way hack to the city, after 
certain matutinal libations to the gods and a gen- 
erous breakfast, took their departure. And Mar- 
cellus, also, went to take formal command of his 
century which his father had obtained for him, 
and had selected beforehand. For some days he 
did not return to the villa, but Dorcas learned, 
from daily conversations in the family, that the 
young centurion was pursuing a round of dissipa- 
tions among his friends, some of whom were al- 
ready, and some of whom were expecting to be, 
admitted into the military service of the empire 
about the same period. She remarked with as- 
tonishment the fact that while Varus was him- 
self the bearer of nearly all the information the 
family received concerning Marcellus, and was in- 
formed of all the incidents of the feasts and de- 
baucheries in which that gallant young gentleman 
participated, neither he nor Calpha ever uttered a 


28 


DORCAS ASKETH QUESTIONS 


29 


word of censure or of anxiety, but did use many 
expressions which indicated their opinion to be 
that the dissipations constantly referred to were all 
right and proper enough in a young man, en- 
tirely consonant with the customs and usages of 
Roman social life, and with the religious ideas 
of paganism. 

The Vice-Prefect was so much gratified with the 
manner in which his young scribe and reader per- 
formed the tasks required of her, that he insensi- 
bly began to enlarge the sphere of her duties, so 
that, in place of confining her to the reading of 
such classics as belonged to him, and copying pas- 
sages which pleased him out of those borrowed 
from acquaintances and friends, he began grad- 
ually to employ her quick intelligence and deft 
fingers in making copies of such reports connected 
with his official business as he deemed it to be 
necessary to make in duplicate. One day Varus 
laid before her the report of his criminal juris- 
diction for the preceding month, setting forth that 
he had ordered the execution or other punishment 
of certain malefactors who had been tried and 
condemned by the magistrates and transferred to 
him for punishment. In transcribing this report 
she came upon the following sentence: 

“ Besides these cases of ordinary crime, I had before me 
seven wretches accused of the crime of being Christians. 
Two of them, who had remained silent when interrogated 


30 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


in sight of the implements of torture, confessed their 
guilt, and sacrificed to Jupiter, and were thereupon dis- 
charged. Three of them, who remained obstinately 
silent, I had flogged soundly and banished them out of thy 
dominions. Two of them, who insolently boasted of their 
devotion to that malignant superstition, and ridiculed the 
gods of Rome, I ordered to be immediately beheaded.” 

When the young girl read this statement in 
the official report, she turned pale and trembled so 
that her fingers refused to perform their office, 
and the cessation of her work caught the attention 
of the Vice- Prefect, who was looking on admir- 
ing the ease and elegance with which she wrote. 

“What aileth thee, Dorcas?” he said kindly. 
“Art thou ill, child? If so, defer thy task un- 
til to-morrow, and a good night’s rest will restore 
thee.” 

But mastering her emotion by a resolute effort, 
she replied: 

“Nay, Vice-Prefect! It hath passed me by 
already, and I will finish the work now.” 

After having done so, and finding that the Vice- 
Prefect seemed to be more inclined to conversa- 
tion than to assigning her any other task, she said : 

“ In thy report I find that thou hast inflicted 
punishment upon murderers, thieves and house 
breakers. Also that thou hast punished others 
who were not accused of such crimes, simply say- 
ing that they were charged with being Christians. 


DORCAS ASKETH QUESTIONS 


3i 


Wilt thou tell me what crimes these persons had 
committed? ” 

“ Why,” said Varus, “ they were members of 
that odious sect which follows Jesus Christ, whom 
the Procurator, Pontius Pilate, crucified at Jerusa- 
lem, in the days when the Emperor Tiberius ruled 
the world. A most pestilent superstition, which, 
in spite of the efforts of many pious emperors to 
suppress it, hath spread throughout the empire. 
But the most holy Emperor Maxentius hath seen 
the evil of any indulgence granted to this criminal 
association, and hath ordered that its members 
be punished wherever found, according to the 
edicts made by the Emperor Diocletian. But 
surely thou — a Jewess, must have heard of this 
Jesus ! ” 

“Yea,” answered Dorcas; “but thy report 
showeth that these whom thou didst punish were 
called Christians, and I asked thee what crimes 
they were said to have committed?” 

“ None,” said Varus, “ except that they were 
Christians; that is the very worst of crimes.” 

“ But if I do not weary thee,” said Dorcas, 
“ tell me whether it is the custom of the Romans 
to punish all who differ with them in religion?” 

“Surely not,” answered Varus; “Rome pro- 
tects and welcomes all religions under heaven, and 
doth not even punish thine own stubborn and pre- 
sumptuous people, but permitteth the Jews to live 


32 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


in the city, although they refuse to sacrifice unto 
the gods of Rome.” 

“ Why, then, is it esteemed so great a crime 
to profess the Christian faith?” 

“ Because,” rejoined Varus, “ this most odious 
superstition hath grown into a secret organiza- 
tion governed by extravagant laws contrary to the 
customs of our ancestors and inconsistent with the 
laws of the empire.” 

“ Wilt thou inform me in what things they 
differ from the Roman laws — things of conse- 
quence enough to incur the displeasure of the Em- 
peror ? ” 

“ Certainly, child, if thou seekest knowledge. 
In the first place, this most impious sect mock and 
deride the gods of Rome and every other nation, 
refusing to visit the temples or to sacrifice. This 
mere atheism of the Christians would not be 
esteemed a crime punishable by laW; but this per- 
nicious sect hath held and taught for three cen- 
turies that no man ought to bear arms even in 
defense of his country, and the acceptance of this 
pusillanimous dogma would destroy the legions 
and expose Rome and the empire to be plundered 
by the Barbarians. Of course the law does not 
and ought not to permit the existence of a sect 
which makes it a matter of religion to discourage 
enlistments and promote desertion.” 

“ I can understand,” replied Dorcas, “ how it 


DORCAS ASKETH QUESTIONS 


33 


may be that a great and warlike people, as the 
Romans have always been, should seek to destroy 
a religion which opposes all wars, and forbids its 
followers to bear arms. Yet, Vice- Prefect, to an 
innocent and ignorant girl like me, it doth seem 
that thine own experience upon this point would 
lead thee to protect, rather than to punish, the 
Christians.” 

“ How can that be possible?” asked Varus 
laughing. 

“ Thou art a soldier,” said Dorcas, “ and, I 
have heard, an officer of approved courage and ex- 
perience, that hath borne the imperial standard at 
the head of thy cohorts in Europe, Asia and 
Africa. Dost thou not think, after all the wrong 
and bloodshed and suffering which thou must have 
seen, that it would be a blessing to mankind, and 
especially to the common people of the world, 
upon whom fall the burdens and ills of war, 
if there should never be war again? ” 

“ Yea,” answered Varus, “ a measureless 
blessing, truly ! But that cannot be, child. 
There must be wars; and the nation that would 
preserve itself or govern others, must be first in 
war.” 

“ Yet if thine account of the Christians be cor- 
rect, all wars must cease if all men were to be- 
come Christians: and thou sayest this would be 
a universal blessing ! ” 


34 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“ But the only road to peace lies through the 
fields of war: only conquest leads to peace,” said 
the Vice-Prefect. 

“ Hast thou ever been engaged in any war in 
which the people on either side began the strug- 
gle? Or is it true, Vice-Prefect, that all the wars 
that afflict mankind grow out of the ambitions and 
crimes of rulers, and generally about things con- 
cerning which the common people know very little 
and care less? ” 

“ That is true to a great extent; but it is true 
also that soldiers must fight for their standards, 
and the law cannot tolerate the doctrine of ‘ non- 
resistance ’ which these accursed Christians 
teach. ” 

“ Wilt thou inform me what else there may be 
in the teachings of this hated sect that is contrary 
to the laws and customs of Rome, besides their 
opposition to bearing arms? ” 

“ One other thing in regard to which they de- 
spise our laws and customs and the practice of 
antiquity, is the fact that they make it religion to 
abolish slavery. They teach that no Christian 
can lawfully own a slave, and that if any slave be- 
comes a Christian he should be set free; so that 
just as this abominable sect groweth, the number 
of freedmen steadily increaseth. This is another 
one of those * extravagant laws and opinions * 
which the most holy Emperor Galerius denounces 


DORCAS ASKETH QUESTIONS 


35 


in his Edict of Toleration issued 1 to reclaim the 
deluded Christians into the way of reason and of 
nature.’ ” 

“ I have had small opportunities to gain knowl- 
edge of all these matters,” said Dorcas. 

“ And thou art the only maiden, or matron 
either, I have known that desired to gain knowl- 
edge of any matters of importance. The Roman 
women are satisfied with the shameful ignorance 
which maketh them but dreary companions for 
sensible men.” 

“May I then learn by asking thee?” said 
Dorcas blandly. 

“ Yea, child, I admire thee both because thou 
knowest much already, and because thou art eager 
to learn more.” 

“ I understand,” she said, “ that Roman law 
and custom fosters slavery, and thou hast in- 
formed me that this hated Christian sect is, and 
has always been, settled in its opposition to slavery 
of any kind. I see clearly, therefore, why the 
Roman slave-owners seek to destroy a people who 
hold a religion that condemns the slave code in 
every line and section of it. But, Vice-Prefect, 
doth thy experience teach thee that slavery is a 
good thing in itself?” 

“ It hath always existed,” replied Varus. “ It 
is in accordance with ‘ the ancient laws and public 
discipline of the Romans,’ and ‘ the religion and 


36 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


ceremonies instituted by our fathers/ and is ‘ the 
practice of antiquity ’ even as the most holy Em- 
peror Galerius saith in the edict to which I have 
referred; and these Christians are impious in de- 
spising it and teaching that it is religion to abolish 
it.” 

“ But is it a good thing, Vice-Prefect? 
Wouldst thou prefer to be a slave thyself? Is it 
good for any save the masters who are rich? Is 
it, in the long run, good even for them? ” 

“ These are strange and perplexing questions, 
Dorcas, and I cannot rightly answer them at this 
time. Let it satisfy thee to know that slavery is 
the universal custom of all peoples in all ages, and 
it is impious and unholy in this Christian sect to 
oppose it.” 

“ Are there other matters besides war and 
slavery in regard to which these Christians vio- 
late the laws and customs of the Romans? ” 

“ Yea, many others,” answered Varus, “ one of 
the most important of which is that they teach 
as religion that all the laws and customs of Rome 
which legalize the superiority of one man, or 
class, above another, and which legalize the right 
to acquire, hold or transmit private property 
rights, are contrary to the will of Christ, and 
ought to be abolished. They teach community 
of property, and claim to have practiced this worst 
form of agrarianism for three hundred years — an 


DORCAS ASKETH QUESTIONS 


37 


abominable system which would destroy all prop- 
erty and subvert the empire and all government 
if it should be once adopted.” 

“ Thou didst inform me, Vice-Prefect, that 
this sect, although punished and outlawed by 
many of the emperors, tolerated by but few, and 
protected by none, had spread throughout the em- 
pire. Canst thou tell me whether it hath prospered 
in property as well as in numbers? ” 

“Yea,” answered Varus; “they hold all prop- 
erty in common: the individual can own nothing 
except his wearing apparel and daily supplies for 
himself and family; yet the Church (which is the 
name by which they designate their illegal and 
pernicious communities, each of which appears 
to be a distinct and independent democracy) is 
growing more and more wealthy everywhere.” 

“ Doth it not seem to thee, Vice-Prefect, that if 
the Christian communities, by this democratic 
policy, have so prospered even in the face of the 
proscriptions written against them in the imperial 
law, that the same system would secure the like 
prosperity for other people also? and that it would 
be good news to the poor if it were universally 
adopted? ” 

“ Dorcas, thou art the strangest girl that I have 
ever seen. Thy questions open up continually 
new and marvelous views of things of which no 
Roman woman ever thinks at all, and thou art 


38 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


sometimes hard to answer.” But at this moment 
Marcellus saluted his father from the open door, 
in his usual musical, rollicking tone: 

“ May I come in, Vice-Prefect, and profit by 
this grand discussion upon laws, religion and 
statesmanship ? ” 

“ Come,” said Varus; “ and if thou wilt listen 
to this young girl thou wilt have much to think 
about. This is my son, the centurion, Marcellus, 
and this is Dorcas, my scribe and reader.” 

“ All hail ! ” said Marcellus, with mock 
gravity. “ Now let the fair Aspasia resume the 
broken lessons.” 

“ I think,” said Dorcas, rising, “ that there 
would be more profit if I go to aid thy mother 
with the work.” 

“Thou shalt remain, Dorcas,” said Varus; and 
then turning to Marcellus he continued: “This 
Dorcas hath found, in transcribing some minutes 
of the criminal report, an entry of the punish- 
ment of certain malevolent and contumacious 
Christians, and hath inquired why the Roman 
laws afflict them; and upon being informed that 
it is because they teach a religion in opposition 
to war, slavery, social and political distinctions 
between men and classes of men, and all laws of 
private property, she hath suggested, even by her 
inquiries, whether war is not an evil thing and a 
curse to the world, and whether slavery is not an 


DORCAS ASKETH QUESTIONS 


39 


evil thing, and whether, if the Christians prosper 
by communism, even under the malediction of 
the laws, that system might not really be best for 
all men. What thinkest thou, centurion, of all 
these things?” 

“ I say that war is a glorious thing for all of 
the better classes; that slavery is necessary for 
their convenience, and that without offices, rank, 
privileges and private property, we would be no 
better than the plebeians ; and that, as to the com- 
mon herd, it doth not matter a denarius to any 
sensible man whether war or slavery bless or curse 
them. That is the hard, common-sense, practical 
creed of the respectable classes in Rome, and I in- 
dorse it with all my soul.” 

And Varus, desirous of keeping the splendid 
youth near to himself, and willing to call out more 
of the girl’s strange fancies, which amused and in- 
terested him, turned to her, saying: 

“ What answer has thou, Dorcas, for this dec- 
lamation of the centurion? ” 

But Dorcas answered: “ I have none, nor do I 
presume to dispute such matters either with thee or 
with him, although by thy permission I did ask 
thee certain questions.” 

“ If thou art too modest to advance thine own 
opinions,” laughed out Varus, “ ask whatever 
thou desirest to know.” 

“ Wilt thou inform me whether there are yet 


4 o DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


other laws and customs of the Romans to which 
this Christian sect maintains its obstinate opposi- 
tion? ” 

“ No others that now occur to me,” answered 
Varus, “ except such as thine own people refuse 
to obey. They deny the divinity of the gods, they 
scorn the idols, they refuse to adore the eikons, and 
refuse to sacrifice, or even to visit the temples. 
But the Jews are like them in all these respects.” 

“Art thou a Jewess, Dorcas?” inquired Mar- 
cellus. 

The young woman made no answer, but turned 
with an appealing look to Varus, who thereupon 
spoke as follows: 

“ Centurion, I agreed with the Israelite 
Epaphras, who brought to me my incomparable 
secretary, that she should not be questioned con- 
cerning her religion, and thou must respect the 
terms of mine agreement, and allow thy question 
to remain unanswered.” 

“ But,” said Marcellus apologetically, “ I did 
not intend to refer to her religion, but to nation- 
ality. Surely, with those wonderful blue eyes and 
her complexion fairer than a lily, our Dorcas can 
hardly be a Jewess by birth? ” 

“ I think not,” said Dorcas. “ The excellent 
Epaphras, who hath been my guardian from mine 
infancy (for my parents died before I can remem- 
ber them), hath told me that my mother was the 


DORCAS ASKETH QUESTIONS 


4i 


daughter of a chieftain of the Cimbri, whose wife 
followed him to Rome when he was brought 
hither as a captive from the regions that border 
on the far North Sea.” 

The young centurion had all this time regarded 
Dorcas with looks of undisguised and ardent ad- 
miration, and when she ceased speaking he ex- 
claimed : “ Dioscuri ! but I knew no Jewish blood 

could flow through the blue veins that show so 
beautifully beneath her snowy skin! Only the 
frozen North can yield these golden-haired and 
heaven-eyed maidens, fairer than marbles of 
Pentelicus ! ” Then, seeing that the girl was pain- 
fully embarrassed by his gaze and speech — an 
evidence of native modesty most new and invit- 
ing to him — he continued: “The Vice- Prefect 
hath most truly said that the Emperor punishes 
this odious Christian sect because of their treason- 
able opposition to the military laws, whereby they 
discourage enlistments in the army and promote 
desertions therefrom, and because of their abhor- 
rence of slavery, and because of their visionary 
and impious denial of private property rights, and 
their vain dreams of a democracy in which social 
and political distinctions between men and classes 
shall be abolished; but we younger men, who love 
life and appreciate all the advantages which the 
benevolent gods of Rome have provided for the 
patrician youth, hate these accursed Galileans be- 


42 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


cause their harsh, ascetic creed condemns as sin 
all the pleasant indulgences which nature craves, 
and denounce, as falsest idols, all the propitious 
gods that sanction them! Ah, Dorcas, who that 
hath a human heart would desire to live in a 
world where the service of glorious Mars is de- 
nounced as crime? where the sacrifices to Venus 
are outlawed and despised? where Bacchus, ever 
beautiful and ever young, the solacer of all sor- 
rows, the inciter to all joys, is held up to detesta- 
tion as a brutal god? A malignant superstition, 
indeed, must that be that in place of leaving re- 
morse and sorrow for the weary old age that 
loathes life and all the good things of the world, 
seeketh to crucify all human pleasing desires even 
in the very hey-day of youth, and congeal every 
fount of pleasure by the requirements of its in- 
human creed! If thou, sweet Dorcas, hast been 
reared up in the scarcely less harsh and unsocial 
religion of the stubborn and ascetic Jews, let no 
false compassion for the sufferings of these malev- 
olent Christians pervert thy heart and lead thee 
astray, but rather suffer me, thy friend and ad- 
mirer, to teach thee the tender, human, beautiful 
religion of holy Rome, wherein some delightful 
divinity shall accept as devotion every sacred 
right that can minister to pleasure, and so recon- 
cile the heart to all the calamities of fate which 
cannot be avoided, by calling into delicious exer- 


DORCAS ASKETH QUESTIONS 


43 


cise every faculty of mind and body that can min- 
ister to joy! O beautiful Dorcas! learn thou the 
true and beautiful religion of sacred, eternal 
Rome! ” 

“ Of the natural results of which thy birth- 
night’s revelry was the only specimen which hath 
come under my observation,” said Dorcas, with 
greater asperity than any one had ever heard be- 
fore in her melodious voice. 

“ And what, O severe Vestal, was there wrong 
about the feast? The wine was good, the edibles 
excellent, the gods propitious, and the girls sur- 
passingly pleasant and witty ! ” 

“ And if thou didst have a sister, centurion, 
couldst thou have desired to see her among those 
pleasant, witty girls? If not, doth it appear right 
to thee to place the sisters of some other youth 
amid such surroundings?” 

“ Dioscuri ! ” he answered. “ These girls are 
only plebeians! Why dost thou ask me whether 
I would have desired to see my sister among 
these ? ” 

“ Because thou didst send thy mother, Calpha, 
to invite me to join them; and if thou art without 
a law to teach thee that this thing was wrong, thou 
art then a law unto thyself, and thou oughtest not 
to place a young girl who never injured thee, and 
whom thou scarcely knowest where thou thinkest 
it would have disgraced thy sister to be found.” 


44 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


The young man, for the first time in his life, 
was covered with confusion in the presence of a 
pretty girl, and hardly knew what answer to make. 
The idea of virtue in any sense except that of 
personal courage (the Roman signification of the 
word), the idea of chastity that loves only what 
things are pure, and loves them for their own 
sake only, was inexplicable to him; but finally, 
with much embarrassment, but with perfect sin- 
cerity, he replied: 

“ Dorcas, in Rome a line of conduct that is 
right and proper to the patrician class is impos- 
sible to the plebeians; and conduct that is right 
and proper enough for the plebeians is utterly 
impossible for the patrician. Only the odious 
and democratic Christians assert the brotherhood 
of man, and deny the privileges of rank and 
fortune, seeking to reduce all classes to one com- 
mon level, which is the tendency of that cruel 
asceticism for which we so bitterly hate them. 
So that they would not only rob us of the pursuits 
and pleasures natural to our age and rank, but 
would deny the lower classes those pleasures and 
advantages which they obtain by our favor, and 
are cruel to both patrician and plebeian.” 

The young girl’s pure and beautiful face grew 
very pale, and a strange fire gleamed from her 
soft, expressive eyes, as she replied in low, pene- 
trating tones : 


DORCAS ASKETH QUESTIONS 


45 


“ I do not know, centurion, how it all may be; 
but, surely, if these despised and persecuted Chris- 
tians have hope in this life only, they must be of 
all men most miserable. If they teach and prac- 
tice a self-denial so severe as thou sayest, do they 
not propose some glorious compensation for its 
sufferings? What sublime reward do they offer 
to those whom they would induce to accept 
their faith, and so crucify themselves unto the 
world? ” 

“ Nothing that is tangible or satisfactory — 
nothing definite or sure — nothing except visionary 
promises of everlasting happiness beyond this life 
in exchange for earthly wretchedness.” 

“ If such promises are built upon any sure and 
trustworthy foundation,” said Dorcas, “ it seems 
to me that it would be the part of wisdom to ac- 
cept them — life is so uncertain, fortune so fickle, 
pleasure so evanescent. And, indeed, the excel- 
lent Epaphras hath taught me that the great men 
who built up the mighty kingdoms of Egypt, 
Assyria, Greece and Persia (and even Rome, 
also) practiced the very same temperance and self- 
denial which thou dost so bitterly condemn; and 
that the prevalence of voluptuousness, luxury and 
pleasure among such as thou hast called the better 
classes is ever the precursor of national disaster. 
I know not whether this be true, but, if true, it 
seems to me that even for this transient, earthly 


46 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


life sobriety is better than licentiousness for all 
men of every class.” 

“True! true!” cried out the Vice-Prefect. 
“ The men that made Rome great, and that acted 
their own parts greatly, were never drunkards, 
nor gluttons, nor great lovers of pleasure! Re- 
member that, centurion, remember that ! ” 

Just then a slave announced the evening meal, 
and the conversation was suspended by their ad- 
journment to the great hall, which, in Roman 
dwelling-houses, was more used than any other 
apartment. 


CHAPTER IV 

IN WHICH DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 

OWIFTLY and pleasantly passed the time for 
^ Dorcas at the Roman’s beautiful villa; and 
day by day the brave old Varus became more and 
more attached to his young secretary, and day by 
day she became more necessary to his happiness, 
not only as reader and copyist, but also as com- 
panion and friend. She was the first chaste, cul- 
tivated girl this patrician soldier had ever known. 
The Roman wife was emphatically the mistress of 
the house only; and the bright, educated women 
upon whom, in earlier life, his wandering fancy 
had been fixed in temporary devotion, were the 
graceful and accomplished hetairae of Greece, the 
coarser but still attractive women of Rome, the se- 
ductive beauties of Egypt, or female adventurers 
from other provinces of the vast Empire, who 
made their way to public favor and notoriety by 
mere physical perfectness, or by graceful accom- 
plishments and mental brightness. The patrician 
classes of the Roman women were uneducated, 
ill-treated and despised. Marriage was a con- 
tract, a business transaction — a very important 
47 


48 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 

business matter, too — to the doing of which 
the law compelled men under onerous penalties; 
and Varus, having once transacted this unpleasant 
business, had abided by the terms of the contract 
(which had really been an advantageous one) 
with an exemplary consistency unusual and honor- 
able at Rome. His own daughters had died be- 
fore reaching maturity, and, although he was a 
good father, he had never realized the sentiment 
of elevated and pleasant affection and companion- 
ship before Dorcas came to dwell in his house. 
They had long and frequent conversations, not 
only upon the subjects of which his manuscripts 
treated, but upon general questions of ethics and 
religion. Strangely enough, the girl had never 
avowed openly any religious convictions, a fact 
which he naturally accounted for by his belief that 
she was a Jewess, between whom and a Pagan 
there could be found no common grounds for com- 
patibility of sentiments. But the life they were 
leading was very pleasant to both of them. The 
aged warrior and the young girl conceived a 
strong friendship for each other, founded upon 
mutual respect and mutual tolerance. He vastly 
admired the transparent delicacy, purity, and in- 
telligence of the chaste young spirit with which he 
was brought into daily contact, and she gladly 
honored a nature so true, manly and straightfor- 
ward as his ever appeared to be. 


DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 


49 


Upon a single point they seemed to be utterly 
unable to comprehend each other. The Vice- 
Prefect’s idea of right was that it consisted of 
what the laws require one to do, or to omit, and 
of whatever was considered to be usual and honor- 
able in a Roman of rank. He could not compre- 
hend her thought that right exists independently 
of all Roman statutes and customs — civil, mili- 
tary or religious; and that these were to be tried 
by some standard above and beyond the reach of 
all Roman jurisprudence, civil or military. She 
was incapable of understanding how it was pos- 
sible that so good a man could be satisfied with 
the doing of every duty imposed by law, custom 
or religion, seeming to be profoundly ignorant 
of any higher sense of obligation, or of any purer 
standard of ethics. But there was no jarring or 
discord between them, and their discussions com- 
monly terminated in an amicable recognition of 
the fact that some things which seemed to be fa- 
miliar as household words to one were an unin- 
telligible jargon to the other. He naturally at- 
tributed it to the fact that she was a woman, and, 
therefore, naturally subject to intellectual hys- 
terics, or mental obtuseness, as all other women 
are. 

The relations existing between herself and the 
young centurion gradually assumed a strange and 
almost indefinable shape. It would not be en- 


50 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


tirely incorrect to say that he failed to compre- 
hend the passion for her which was daily becom- 
ing more and more a part of his existence. Any 
sentiment of pity for her personally, or any regard 
for the chastity of which she was the living em- 
bodiment, was beyond the range of his experience. 
The Roman youth of his age and rank was in- 
capable of either understanding or believing in 
any such thing, even among the girls whom he 
might regard as his equals, and among whom he 
expected that he would some day be compelled to 
select a wife. In fact, that genuine modesty 
which loves and cherishes whatever is pure for 
its own sake, was incomprehensible to both sexes 
in the higher classes of that age. They knew that 
marriage meant a contract into which no man but 
an idiot would enter because of any merely senti- 
mental preference — a contract that, however re- 
pulsive it might be and generally was, ought to 
be justified by the social and political advantages 
to be reaped from it. As for what they denomi- 
nated “ love,” it was the fashion to seek it else- 
where than in the marital relation; and a Roman 
who was actually in love with his wife would gen- 
erally have been an object of ridicule and con- 
temptuous pity. And yet, after Marcellus had 
first met Dorcas with such boisterous demonstra- 
tions of his preference for her, he had never 
ventured upon any similar advances; why, he 


DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 


5i 


could not have told. He therefore found himself 
daily becoming more and more hopelessly en- 
amored of a girl who quietly but continually be- 
came more and more unapproachable to him. It 
was a monstrous paradox in his experience, and 
he would have laughed loud and mockingly if he 
had discovered any one of his associates in a posi- 
tion at once so inexplicable and so tantalizing. 

Without seeming to do so, she had carefully 
avoided giving him an opportunity to see her 
alone, and yet, in the presence of his father or 
mother, she had met him without a shadow of em- 
barrassment and with unvarying kindness. She 
really enjoyed being with him. He was certainly 
the handsomest young man she had ever seen, 
and his rollicking and boisterous manners and self- 
conceit did not seem to be much out of place in 
one who was so young, an only son, and heir to 
such splendid advantages. He was so quick, so 
intelligent, so kind and generous, and of such 
sterling integrity according to the light by which 
he walked, that it was impossible to be near him 
without feeling the almost irresistible magnetism 
of his healthy, hearty, manly character and per- 
son. And yet to her this splendid youth seemed 
maimed and dwarfed in the immortal part of him, 
and, knowing the moral deformity which pagan- 
ism had produced in him, in common with all the 
youth of his rank in the great heathen empire, 


52 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


she felt a certain indefinable sense of pity and 
compassion for the undeveloped spiritual nature 
which she believed must be inherent in a physical 
and intellectual organization so robust and beauti- 
ful. True, she herself was but fifteen years of 
age, and the colder blood of the north which 
temperately flowed through her brain and heart, 
had permitted her swift and bright intellect to 
grow and blossom wonderfully under the careful 
and life-long tutelage by which she had profited, 
while, in every physical sense, she was little more 
than a child, at an age at which the warmer- 
blooded daughters of Italy were passionate women 
on all the sensuous sides of existence, and chil- 
dren in all other things. 

The twain seemed in many particulars to be 
typical of the antagonistic systems under which 
they had been reared. He was a fit type of the 
hard, practical, physical life of splendid Rome, 
with its vast and truthful boastings of action and 
achievement — she of another and utterly differ- 
ent civilization — a system that exalted spiritual 
life and regarded with scorn, or, at least, with 
indifference, all of the pomp and splendor of the 
world in which Rome gloried — a system which 
boldly taught, in the very teeth of all of the wis- 
dom of the ancients, and all of the practice of the 
centuries, the utter injustice of all class distinctions 
and prerogatives, and the worth and dignity of 


DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 


53 


man, not as kings, nobles, philosophers or mil- 
lionaires; not as Romans, Greeks, Jews or bar- 
barians, but simply as man — a truth unknown 
to human philosophy and statesmanship until 
Jesus Christ proclaimed it. 

Often and over again these salient and irre- 
concilable differences cropped up out of even the 
simplest and most informal conversations, and 
both the Vice-Prefect and the centurion would 
listen with wonder, respect and interest to the 
young girl, yet almost a child, who, quietly and 
modestly, but persistently, dared to maintain that 
war, in which Rome gloried, was only national 
crime and legalized murder; that slavery, which 
was sanctioned by the laws and religion of the 
empire and the practice of all ages and of all 
peoples, was contrary to the will of God and to 
the honest, unbiased deliverance of every man’s 
consciousness; that all class distinctions founded 
upon accidents of birth, rank or fortune were a 
wrong to the people; and that the legal right to 
hold, acquire and transmit private property-rights 
served only to foster inhuman selfishness, and to 
give immortality to fraud, pride, tyranny and in- 
justice. These radical opinions were never 
uttered by the young girl as if she had learned 
and repeated from memory lessons at variance 
with the laws and usages of Rome, nor with the 
dogmatic air which characterized the utterances 


54 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 

of the philosophers; but as if they were the in- 
spiration of convictions too profound for argu- 
ment — the outpourings of some hidden but liv- 
ing well-spring of feeling and of thought. This 
intellectual and moral purity and strength in a 
young and beautiful girl was something so new, 
strange and attractive to both father and son, that 
often after some sudden, almost sybilline utter- 
ance that seemed to flow spontaneously from the 
very depths of her pellucid soul, Varus would 
say: 

“ She hath a daimon, centurion ! ” 

And Marcellus would answer: “Yea, Vice- 
Prefect — a wise and beautiful daimon!’* 

And this explanation of a womanly intelligence 
and chastity of thought and feeling which was 
phenomenal in the experience of these two excel- 
lent Romans, as it would have been in the experi- 
ence of almost all men of their rank in the Im- 
perial City, was confirmed to their minds by the 
strange fact that Dorcas habitually stated things 
in the form of questions or suggestions that cut 
down to the very tap-roots of polytheism, and 
of all the social and political life of Rome. 

One evening, sitting in the shade of the trees 
(more than half the life of the Romans was 
passed out of doors), the Vice-Prefect was ex- 
plaining to Dorcas and Marcellus a plan of the 
great city, and expatiating upon the glory and 



THE VICE-PREFECT WAS EXPATIATING UPON THE GLORY AND GREATNESS OF ROME 




































. 























DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 


55 


greatness of Rome, as he pointed out an arch here 
which indicated a triumph of the Roman arms 
in Britain, that showed the subjection of great 
warlike tribes in Gaul, and the other similar suc- 
cesses in Germania. Here were mementos of 
victories in Africa, in Asia — almost throughout 
the world. 

“ Thus you perceive,” said Varus, “ that holy 
Rome, under the protection of the immortal and 
favorable gods, hath triumphed over the nations 
of mankind, and compelled them to contribute 
to her grandeur and her glory. Centurion, never 
forget how magnificent and glorious is thy native 
Rome, nor how the benevolent gods have favored 
thee by giving thee honorable birth and position 
in the all-illustrious empire, nor that it must be 
the labor of thy life to add to her renown.” 

Then said Dorcas quietly: “ How many peo- 
ple are in Rome, Vice-Prefect?” 

“ More than four millions,” answered Varus, 
“ a number unequaled by any city in the world.” 

“ And how many of them are slaves, Vice-Pre- 
fect?” 

“ About two-thirds of them are slaves,” said 
he. 

“ Then,” said Dorcas, “ if the same ratio hold 
good throughout Italy, dost thou not think that 
the 1 liberty and glory ’ of which thou dost so 
fondly boast are words which have no meaning to 


56 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


by far the greater part of the Romans? or is it 
true, Vice-Prefect, that just as the government 
of Rome hath advanced in all physical power and 
progress, the condition of the slaves, and of all 
the poor, hath become continually harder and more 
hopeless; so that the grandeur for which thou 
dost magnify thy gods has been, in truth, the 
pride and glory of the few only, and the ever-in- 
creasing curse and burden of the many? Dost 
thou not think it had been better to have had less 
glory for the few who have a living interest in 
the affairs of government, and greater liberty and 
comfort for the vast multitude upon whom the 
waste and weight of all this glory rests, and none 
of its advantages? ” 

“ Why, the slaves never think of these things,” 
said Marcellus, “ and if they did there would be 
endless servile war.” 

“ Do the gods also control the destinies of the 
slaves and of the poor?” asked Dorcas. 

“ Certainly! All men are under the immortal 
gods,” said Varus, “ in whom we move and have 
our being.” 

“ How many of thy gods are there ? ” asked 
Dorcas. 

“ The Flamen of Jupiter cannot answer that to 
thee.” 

“ And which of them,” asked Dorcas, “ is the 
especial protector of the slaves and the poor? 


DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 


57 


Which of them giveth his divine compassion and 
unfailing aid to these unfortunates who constitute 
the great masses of the Roman people? What 
are the names of the divinities that invite the 
adoration and solicit the worship of the slaves and 
of the plebeians? Who more need divine assist- 
ance in proportion as they are deprived of all 
human respect, and of all the advantages of life? 
What kind divinity stands pledged to give jus- 
tice, protection, blessings unto the plebeians and 
slaves? ” 

“ I never thought of that before,” answered 
Varus. “ All other classes have their own pro- 
tecting gods — even pirates, panderers and 
thieves — but there are no especial divinities for 
the slaves and plebeians as such.” 

“ Ah ! then,” said Dorcas, “ it doth seem to me 
that if some splendid and compassionate god should 
take his station in your Pantheon, and cry aloud 
to these despised and afflicted people, 1 Come unto 
Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and 
I will give you rest! Take My yoke upon you 
and learn of Me; for I, the Divinity, am meek 
and lowly in heart, and ye shall find rest unto 
your lives; for My yoke is easy and My burden 
light ’ — it seems to me that such a divinity would 
be loved and worshiped by the common people 
with such adoration as Jupiter hath never 
known ! ” 


58 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“ Why,” said Varus, “ thou hast uttered, in thy 
strange and beautiful fancy, almost such teachings 
as the odious Christian sect ascribe to Jesus, ex- 
cept that while they proclaim a savior for the 
slaves and plebeians, as thou hast fancied, they 
deny the great gods who protect the mighty Ro- 
man state, and all that is respectable therein.” 

“ Dost thou suppose, then,” said Dorcas, “ that 
it was on this very account that the great Em- 
perors Tiberius, Domitian, Trajan, Antoninus, 
Severus, Maximin, Decius, Gallus, Valerian, 
Diocletian, and now Maxentius, have always pur- 
sued and punished these Christians? Indeed, I 
have often heard the wise and learned Epaphras 
declare that the Pharisees and Scribes, who were 
the rich and respectable classes of his countrymen, 
crucified the poor and friendless Jesus, because 
‘ they were covetous,’ and He taught the com- 
munion of saints, which is community of property 
and rights, and that all men are born free and 
equal, a gospel for the poor that would abolish 
slavery and war, and would either level down the 
patricians to an equality with the plebeians, or 
level upwards and raise the plebeians to equality 
with the patricians, as I have heard thee also say 
these Christians do still teach.” 

“ Verily,” answered Varus, “ the Christians do 
so teach; and the strangest thing to me is that 
thy questions do evermore bring up things in such 


DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 


59 


a curious light that one is, for the moment, almost 
compelled to believe that these abominable heresies 
which would destroy the empire are right and 
true and best for the multitude. But, much as 
it pleaseth me to hear thy strange suggestions, 
which do continually provoke the mind to follow 
new and wonderful lines of thought that I have 
not found in Greek or Roman philosophy, I must 
leave thee now and go into the city, for there are 
impending disturbances that will require my pres- 
ence there to-night. Dorcas, fare thee well. 
Centurion, farewell.” 

Then, under the seductive power of that soft 
Italian air, the west still rosy with the just sunken 
sun, there was silence between the young and beau- 
tiful couple — a dangerous silence, in which the 
fond emotions of all tender hearts were quickly 
brought to bloom even long before old Hesiod 
sung: 

“ O Hesperus! thou bringest all good things !” 

“ See, Dorcas,” said Marcellus, “ how bril- 
liantly the star of evening gleameth even through 
the half-light of day still lingering in the sky! 
Canst thou sing, Dorcas, that divine hymn in 
which Hesiod celebrates the kind god, Hesperus? ” 

“ Nay,” replied Dorcas, “ for I was never 
taught the classic melodies of Greece and Rome; 
but I can sing a pretty little song which, Epa- 


6o DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


phras saith, was a favorite with my mother, and 
which, he saith also, is a translation, or rather 
an imitation, of the Greek poet’s sweetest hymn.” 
“ Dorcas, sing thou that song for me!” 

Then the girl sang, to a low, soothing melody, 
the following words: 

“O Hesperus, that burnest bright 
As gems upon the brow of night! 

Thou bringest weary toil, oppressed 
By labor and by sorrows, rest, 

And sleep, the comforter. 

“Thou bringest cattle to the stall; 

Sheep to the fold, men to the hall; 

The wild bird to her leafy nest, 

The babe unto the mother’s breast, 

The ship to havens safe! 

“Thou bringest dew unto the flowers, 

And coolness to the glowing hours; 

To peaceful homes fond thoughts, that prove 
How sweet is tender human love, 

And confidence and trust! 

“ O Hesperus! as thy mellow light 
Soothes, blesses, glorifies the night, 

So may our faith in Him, whose care 
Preserves thy large and gleaming sphere. 
Preserve our spirits pure! 


DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 


61 


“ Raise Thou our hopes and trust above ! 

Shed on our hearts, like dew, Thy love! 

From sin and selfishness set free, 

Let us, O Lord, commune with Thee 
In perfect faith and love ! ” 

“ Dorcas, I thank thee. It is very beautiful,” 
said Marcellus, drawing closer to the young girl 
upon the rustic bench upon which all three had 
been sitting before the departure of Varus. The 
centurion gazed into her beautiful face with eyes 
of infinite tenderness and longing, as he said, in 
the low tones of suppressed but passionate emo- 
tion : 

“Why dost thou always shun me, Dorcas? 
During all the time thou hast made thine abode 
with us I have sought, but could never find, an 
opportunity to speak with thee alone; and even 
this evening I feared that thou wouldst leave me 
when the Vice-Prefect departed, as thou hast ever 
done. Why art thou so distant, cruel and hard 
with me? For if I were too bold and presump- 
tuous with thee when we did first meet, thou 
shouldst forgive me, for I did not then know thee, 
and supposed that thou wert as other Roman 
maidens who would have been delighted to be so 
caressed. But, Dorcas, I honor thee more than 
any woman upon the earth, and thou must not be 
so hard and unfriendly.” 

The young girl grew very pale beneath the sub- 


62 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


tie fire in his pleading eyes and the tender music 
of his voice. She arose, however, and in the act 
of going, said very kindly: 

“ Centurion, I have never been unfriendly to 
thee. I have ever felt great kindness toward thee : 
nevertheless it had been proper for me to have 
left thee as soon as thy father departed, and I 
must do so now. Fare thee well! ” 

But as Dorcas turned away the young man 
seized her hands, and with very gentle but supe- 
rior force drew her back into the seat beside him, 
saying : 

“ Nay, Dorcas, thou shalt not leave me so. I 
love thee, girl, with all my soul. By Venus Vic- 
trix and all other gods I swear that, of all women 
in the world, I care for thee only; and thou shalt 
have such honor and devotion of my heart as no 
other maiden in all Rome enjoyeth if thou canst 
love me, Dorcas. O dear one, love me ! love me ! 
love me!” 

In an ecstasy of passion and longing he threw 
his arms around the trembling girl, drew her to 
his throbbing heart and pressed his burning lips 
to hers. It was a sore trial for the youthful girl. 
For one brief, exquisite moment she yielded to 
the imperious power of love that submerged her 
being like a bath of flame, while all her heart 
yearned for the affection of the rare and glorious 
youth who wooed her with such passionate devo- 


DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 


63 


tion. But instantly the relentless sense of right 
and of duty crushed down her yearning heart, 
and, gently disengaging herself from his passion- 
ate embrace, she spake in tones from which even 
her resolute and chastened will vainly strove to 
shut out the vibrant trill of tenderness that would 
make itself heard in every syllable: 

“Nay, nay, centurion; this cannot be! Fare- 
well, Marcellus ! This can never be ! ” 

“ But why not, Dorcas? Yea,” he cried, with 
all his soul shining in his burning eyes, “ thou 
dost love me, Dorcas; thou canst not lie to me, 
thou dearest girl! Thou canst not gaze into 
mine eyes and say, ‘ I love thee not ! ’ Try it, 
Dorcas. Look thou upon me, and answer truth- 
fully from thy heart, Dost not thou love me, 
Dorcas? ” 

She had never learned to lie; she could not do 
so ; she felt that the young man’s tender, pleading 
voice and eyes extorted the confession from her 
lips, and, gazing upon him with the seriousness 
of an infinite affection, she replied: 

“ Yea, Marcellus, it is even true, I love thee 
dearly; I love thee with my soul.” Then, with 
inexpressible sadness, she continued: “Now, 
thou dear Marcellus, let me go hence. It is all 
over; this is the end of all; I have told thee that 
it cannot, cannot be. Farewell! ” 

“ Nay,” he cried, exulting in the triumph that 


64 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


had wrung from her lips that full confession of 
her love, and holding fast her little hands in both 
of his, “ thou shalt not go. If thou dost love 
me, why say ‘ It cannot be ’ ? By all the gods of 
Rome, thou shalt be mine ! Why talkest thou so 
sadly and so foolishly? I am young and wealthy 
and honorable, and I will devote my life to thy 
happiness. Respect and love and every indul- 
gence and elegance that rank and wealth can yield 
thee shall be thine. Think of thy hard and lonely 
life, dear Dorcas, with its privations, its unending 
toil, its social solitude and occlusion from all that 
is bright and joyous and beautiful in life! Think 
of the half-servile station which degradeth thee, 
and then think that with me there is naught the 
gods can give which thou shalt lack. O beautiful 
and beloved Dorcas, if thou lovest me even a lit- 
tle, it is mere madness and folly to say, 1 It cannot 
be.’ Come thou to me, love ! Be mine ! ” 

“ Nay,” said the girl softly. “ Permit me to 
depart, centurion. I tell thee that it is impossi- 
ble. I do love thee dearly, and I hope thou wilt 
not doubt that I have bestowed upon thee my 
first and only love, which shall be thine forever. 
But, much as I admire and love thee, I tell thee 
truly that I would welcome any form of death 
rather than remain with thee as thou wishest. It 
is impossible, it cannot be. Farewell!” 

But he held her hands fast, exclaiming: 


DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 


65 


“ There was never such a maiden in the world 
as thou. Thou lovest me, and thou knowest that 
my very heart is thine; and yet thou dost reject 
all that my ardent affection is praying to bestow 
upon thee; and thou preferrest poverty and toil 
and self-denial, and even death itself, without me, 
to pleasure, ease and elegance in my loving arms; 
and thou dost starve both of our hearts I It is 
most cruel, unnatural, inexplicable I I desire to 
know, and have the right to know, the reason, 
if there can be any reason, for this course of thine, 
which every girl in Rome would surely censure as 
most unjust and cruel ! Or dost thou wound me 
so bitterly and thine own heart through mere 
womanly vanity and perverseness without a 
cause? ” 

Then stood she up most pale and resolute. 
She knew well the feelings and opinions of that 
great Roman world to which the youth belonged, 
and understood perfectly that her refusal to ac- 
cept as her lover the only man she loved, who 
was so passionately attached to her, must seem 
to him to be, as he had said, cruel, unnatural and 
inexplicable. And so, pressing her hands upon 
her heart to still its mighty anguish, she gazed 
into his eyes with a mournful tenderness, saying: 

“ Thou dear and noble Marcellus, think not I 
would refuse thee for any trivial cause, or for any 
cause that is not stronger and more imperious to 


66 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


my soul than is the love of life or the fear of 
death. Friend, that life which thou desirest me 
to lead is to me unpardonable sin and shame. 
Thou canst not understand it so, perhaps, but I 
deny thee as I would do if the words should tear 
my heart up by the roots, because I am a Chris- 
tian.” 

Then strange, tumultuous changes swept like 
storms across his soul and left their shadows on 
his face. His first glance at her upon her making 
this damning avowal of her faith in Christ was 
one of utter loathing and contempt, as if she had 
said, “ I am a leper.” But the girl stood there so 
quiet, submissive, beautiful; so full of sorrow for 
the pain she had given him, and he loved her so 
much that this first impulse of horror quickly 
faded out, and the old, passionate yearning for her 
assumed a momentary sway, only to be succeeded 
by a tempestuous rage. 

“ A Christian ! ” he said, almost gnashing his 
teeth in his convulsive passion. “ One of the ac- 
cursed sect that hates the world. And thinkest 
thou, girl, that I am weak and purposeless enough 
to suffer the hideous teachings of this outcast and 
criminal association to doom thee and myself to 
life-long sorrow? No, Dioscuri ! No ! by all the 
shining gods of heaven! by all the kind and pitiful 
daimons that people earth and air ! by all the dark 
divinities that reign in hell, thou shalt be mine ! I 


DORCAS RUNNETH AWAY 


67 


will reclaim thee from this baleful superstition, and 
bring thee back into the way of reason and of 
nature ! Even for thine own sweet sake, Dorcas, 
even by force if thou refuse, within this hour thou 
shalt offer sacrifice to Venus; or I will summon the 
lictors and have thee dragged before the magis- 
trates and punished, as thou hast no doubt heard 
the Christian girls are punished by the Emperor. 
Prepare thy mind, Dorcas. I love thee too ten- 
derly to leave thee in the power of this accursed 
sect. I go now to make ready fit sacrifices to the 
beautiful goddess, and straightway will return to 
teach thee her amiable and delightful service; and 
so reclaim thee, at least, from this malignant super- 
stition of the Christians.” 

Then turned he, and in all the hurry of extreme 
agitation, strode into the house. 

With clasped hands and streaming eyes the 
young girl for a moment stood looking up into 
the wide and starry heaven, as if she hoped to 
find somewhere in its depths sublime the God of 
the fatherless ; then she sped diagonally across the 
inclosure in front of the villa to the corner of the 
stone wall which fenced off the premises from 
the highway; placed her hands upon the top of 
the wall, and lightly swung her agile form first 
to the top and thence down into the Appian Way, 
upon which magnificent Roman road, the grounds 
of Varus fronted. 


CHAPTER V> 


IN WHICH DORCAS HEARETH THE STORY 
OF FAUSTINA 

T IGHTLY and swiftly the maidefl Dorcas sped 
along the splendid road* which was almost de- 
serted at that hour of the night, looking neither to 
the right nor to the left, nor pausing even a mo- 
ment on her breathless journey, mile after mile, 
until she reached a point at which her way left the 
road and turned off abruptly into a tangled maze 
of brambles, underbrush and trees that marked the 
site of a former villa, long since destroyed, and 
left to that luxuriant vegetation which hides the 
rough face of desolation and decay. In the very 
heart of this wild waste she came to a fragment 
of ancient stucco work, that seemed once to have 
constituted part of the wall of a cellar or cistern, 
and passing by this she found an opening in the 
side of the adjacent hill, into which she stepped 
without a moment’s hesitation. Dorcas had trod- 
den the same road every Seventh day since she 
first went to the villa of the Vice-Prefect Varus, 
and the utter darkness into which she entered now 
was pleasant as one’s return to a beloved home. 

68 


THE STORY OF FAUSTINA 


69 


Not far from the entrance she groped about 
with her hands until she found a certain stone for 
which she sought, and, lifting it, she saw the wel- 
come radiance of a diminutive lamp, whose deli- 
cate shaft of flame was always kept alive in that 
hidden crypt; and by this lamp she lighted one of 
many others that were carefully deposited in the 
same secret receptacle, and then, having carefully 
replaced the stone in its proper place, she took her 
lamp in her hand, and resumed her lonely jour- 
ney. The place she was in was a gallery cut out 
of the rock, about eight feet high by perhaps ten 
feet in width, the length of which seemed to be 
interminable. Furlong after furlong she con- 
tinued on her way, now turning into other galleries 
that opened into that which she had first entered, 
treading the labyrinth of the vast catacombs with 
as little hesitation as if she had dwelt in their soli- 
tude and darkness all her life. She was alone, 
except for the unknown and countless dead whose 
mortal remains slept peacefully in narrow crypts 
cut into the rocky sides of the galleries in irregular 
rows, one over another, like the windows in a 
dove-cote. Dorcas had walked a long distance, 
but at last reached a point where the walls of sev- 
eral intersecting galleries had been cut away in 
every direction, forming a room having capacity 
to accommodate even several hundred people upon 
the wooden benches that occupied the floor. 


70 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


There was also a low platform upon the eastern 
side of this room, with a small wooden table upon 
it and a larger table standing in front of it. Such 
was the chapel in which the persecuted Christians 
of that age celebrated the ceremonies of their 
illegal and proscribed faith. 

Having crossed this primitive chapel, the girl 
went on a short distance into another gallery and 
paused; and, having placed her lamp upon the 
stony floor, she sank down upon her knees, and 
burst into an agony of tears, while her slight form 
shook with sobs of passionate sorrow, and her 
heart all vainly sought for peace in prayer. The 
crypt or sepulcher at which she kneeled was closed 
up by a slab of white marble, upon which some 
loving hand had cut an inscription like to that 
shown in the opening chapter of this history. 

How long the young girl had been kneeling here 
in anguish and in prayer she did not know, but it 
must have been morning in the upper world when, 
with grave, sedate steps, a tall and handsome man, 
somewhat past the meridian of life, passed quietly 
along the gallery, and seeing first the lamp-light 
and then the kneeling girl, he paused, and laying 
his hand lightly upon her drooping head, spoke in 
low and loving tones these words : 

“ Grief, the refiner, that cometh unto all, hath 
come early unto thee, my daughter. Remember 
thou that He chasteneth whom He loveth, and 


THE STORY OF FAUSTINA 


71 


scourgeth every one whom He instructeth ; and thou 
shouldst lift up thy soul to Him, having known, 
even from thine infancy, that He doeth all things 
well.” 

“ O Father Epaphras, it is a sorrow greater 
than I can bear. Even my prayers rise not, but 
fall back to the cruel earth like a poor bird with 
broken wing. Would to God that I had never 
left this quiet holy place.” 

11 No chastening for the present seemeth good, 
but grievous rather; yet afterwards it worketh out 
the peaceable fruits of righteousness. But come 
thou, Dorcas, into the chapel, and tell me all thy 
sorrow.” 

Then she rose up and meekly followed him; 
and, having set their lamps upon the table, they 
twain seated themselves upon a bench, and, in a 
voice broken repeatedly by sobs of grief, she told 
the presbyter Epaphras of her recent trouble with 
Marcellus without reserve, not omitting even to 
state the passionate embrace and kisses he had 
given her, and her own transient but boundless joy 
at the discovery of her love for him. 

Every Seventh day since she had been at the 
villa Dorcas had passed in the catacombs with 
certain holy women, who made their home some- 
where in its vast and gloomy recesses, among 
whom, indeed, she had been reared and taught; 
and she had always attended the services in the 


72 ' DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


chapel, and, after services were over, she had al- 
ways waited to converse with him, and had kept 
him informed of almost every incident of her life 
while there. So that while Epaphras was fully 
prepared for the story of the passionate love the 
young centurion had declared for Dorcas, he was 
not at all prepared for any such possibility as that 
Dorcas might reciprocate his love ; for, indeed, the 
maiden had not herself known it until that even- 
ing, and her confession thereof filled him with sor- 
row and surprise. 

“ And thou lovest this proud Roman, the enemy 
of thy friends and of thy Lord? ” 

“ Yea, father, all my heart runs out to him, as 
waters seek the sea! He is so good and noble, 
that if he only knew the truth he would not hesi- 
tate to give up his life therefor! But alas! alas! 
he does not know ! ” 

“ Thou must abide here in the catacombs for a 
long time to come,” said Epaphras. “ The lib- 
eral donations Varus gave to thee were a most 
welcome contribution to the treasury of the church, 
that suffereth so grievously from the persecution 
which Diocletian began, and which Maxentius con- 
tinued! ; but if it were ten thousand times as much, 
thou shouldst not place thyself for one hour in this 
heathen’s power to gain it. Thou shalt remain 
here, and shalt not go forth again unless I may 
even find some other home for thee. The Vice- 


THE STORY OF FAUSTINA 


73 


Prefect Varus is an honorable man, but there are 
few like him in this heathen Rome; and thou shalt 
go to none whom I do not thoroughly know and 
trust. But thou art now a woman, Dorcas, and 
the first sorrow of thy life hath come upon thee. 
It is fitting that I tell thee of thy mother, Faustina, 
whose last resting-place thou knowest, and if thou 
wilt take to heart her glorious example, thou shalt 
be fortified to overcome the temptations of the 
world, the devil and the flesh. 

u Thy mother was the daughter of the Cim- 
brian chieftain Segestus, whom thy grandmother, 
his wife, did follow to Rome when Germanicus 
brought him hither to grace his triumph after the 
manner of the Romans. Thy mother was thus 
born in Rome; and when she had grown up to 
womanhood in the faith of Jesus, she was mar- 
ried to the youthful presbyter Eugenius. He was 
martyred by the Jews of Celicia when on a jour- 
ney to Jerusalem, at the time that thou wast one 
year old ; yet, spite of earthly sorrows, she gloried 
in his death. A year after that, when certain 
Christians of our community were called to mar- 
tyrdom in the Circus Maximus, thy mother Faus- 
tina insisted upon going to witness the glorious 
spectacle and see for herself how faith can tri- 
umph even over death. We did fear that the 
scene might unduly agitate one who had been 
physically delicate ever since the news of thy fa- 


74 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


ther’s martyrdom had come to us; and when we 
found that she would not be dissuaded, we sol- 
emnly warned her that the slightest expression of 
sympathy for those who were called upon to suf- 
fer for their Lord, or the slightest condemnation 
of those who persecuted them, might subject her 
to the like trial at the hands of the jealous Ro- 
mans. Then she and other Christians mingled 
with the crowd that had collected to witness the 
departure of our brethren on their way sublime. 
When the executioners approached their bound 
victims they began to chant the glorious words of 
Paul, ‘ O grave, where is thy victory ? O death, 
where is thy sting?’ And almost at the moment 
that the fatal blows descended upon them, the 
young mother, standing beside me, on the edge of 
the crowd, shouted in a clear, triumphant voice, 
whose sweet and solemn cadence filled the vast 
space around : ‘ Thanks be to God, which giveth 

them the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ! ’ 
“ Almost immediately a centurion cried out : 
‘ This woman also calleth on the accursed Gali- 
lean ! ’ and he rushed forward to seize her. Then 
said I unto her: ‘ Give me thy child, Faustina! ’ 
Then the centurion haled her before the magis- 
trates who had come to witness the enforcement of 
their judgment, saying: ‘ This woman hath now 
called upon God and Christ here in the presence of 
the magistrates and of the soldiers;’ and when 


THE STORY OF FAUSTINA 


75 


they questioned her concerning the same, she 
boldly avowed her faith in Jesus. Then said the 
chief magistrate unto her: ‘If thou wilt lodge 
with this centurion to-night, and in the morning 
make thy sacrifice to Venus, thou may’st live; if 
not, thou shalt die ! * 

“Then answered thy mother: ‘I prefer the 
sword to the centurion, and death rather than 
idolatry; nor need thou delay, for I do love and 
worship Christ both now and to-morrow.’ 

“ Then ordered they the centurion to lead 
Faustina to the executioners, and as they were 
crossing the open space between, I swiftly stepped 
forward and said to the centurion : ‘ This is the 

woman’s babe; may she not bid the child fare- 
well?’ Then the Roman halted them that were 
with him, and thy mother did kiss thee, and did 
make the sign of the cross upon thee, and while 
she was doing this she turned away from the cen- 
turion, and I said unto her: ‘ Faustina, dost thou 
desire the Anastasis? ’ 

“And with a smile she answered: ‘Nay, but 
to depart, and to be with Christ, which is far 
better! Care thou and our community for the 
babe!’ 

“ Then I perceived of a truth that she had 
come thither in order to go hence by the sacred 
way, as so many of our people also have done, 
until the church forbade us to seek for martyrdom. 


76 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“ And so she went forward chanting the psalm 
of victory, and with a sword those men struck off 
her head. 

“ Thou wilt see upon her tomb the Hebrew 
word ‘ Shalom,’ which signifieth peace. Thou 
wilt see the green branch, signifying everlasting 
life. Thou will see the symbol of martyrdom, 
and next to it the urn, signifying Christian burial. 
For soon as the night had fallen certain of the 
brethren with me bore the body of the martyr 
hither. The slab which thou hast read I cut out 
even with mine own hand, and the inscription 
thereon. For, lol I did love thy mother much 
and tenderly.” 

And the great tears welling up from the pres- 
byter’s soft eyes, and his broken, sobbing voice, 
attested the depth and deathlessness of that great 
love. 

“ I have told thee of these things at this time,” 
said the presbyter, “ because I would have thee, 
O daughter of marytrs, cast out of thy sinless heart 
this love for the proud Roman ! Arise, my child, 
and go in peace, and may the peace of God go 
with thee ! ” 

Then arose Dorcas meekly, and, bending over 
the presbyter, kissed she his forehead with mighty 
tenderness and reverence ; and, taking up her lamp, 
she passed out of the chapel, seeking the more hid- 


THE STORY OF FAUSTINA 


77 

den recesses of the vast necropolis wherein abode 
the holy women. 

Then the presbyter kneeled down and struggled 
woefully in prayer, and at last the sorrow of his 
burdened heart broke forth into a wail of limit- 
less anguish: 

“ O Lion of the tribe of Judah,” cried he, 
“ give me of thy strength and courage, for I am 
desolate and sore afflicted. Thou didst call the 
mother whom I loved unto thyself by the quick 
way of martyrdom ; and now the daughter, whom 
I have carried a lamb in my bosom all these 
lonely years, this cruel Roman hath stolen out of 
my yearning heart, and human nature in me suffers 
more than death ! Impart to me thine aid 
divine ! ” 

Long wrestled he with that sore grief, but 
peace at last fell on him — peace that passeth all 
understanding — peace that floweth as a river — 
and rising to his feet once more, his grand and 
holy face less lighted by the little lamp he bore 
than by the radiance that beamed forth from his 
pure, exalted soul, the presbyter went quietly and 
gravely on his way. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE SWADDLING-BANDS OF ANTI-CHRIST 

TN the spring of the year 312, Constantine, who, 
after his father’s death, had been proclaimed 
Emperor by the Roman legions then in Britain, 
and had, after coming into Gaul, received the 
homage of the army in that country, made his 
imperial residence and army headquarters at 
Lutetia. To him came deputies from Rome, rep- 
resenting that the people of Italy were secretly 
opposed to the tyrant Maxentius, who then was 
Emperor at Rome, and beseeching him to come 
to Rome and free them from that despotism by as- 
suming his own rightful sovereignty over Italy. 

“We represent, O mighty Constantine, almost 
every class in Italy, and by far the greater part of 
the people, and in their names we implore thee to 
march to the Imperial City, both because the peo- 
ple hate Maxentius and because of their great 
love and loyalty to thee.” 

Constantine the Great, then in the bloom and 
freshness of his manhood, was perhaps the hand- 
somest Roman that ever wore the purple, and also 
the most astute politician of his age; a man fitted 
78 


THE BANDS OF ANTI-CHRIST 


79 


by nature for the greatest destiny; brave, hardy, 
temperate, self-poised and ambitious, knowing the 
very hearts of men. 

To these delegates he replied in calm and 
dignified terms, in which firmness and kindness 
were equally blended: 

“Patricians I Senators! the message which ye 
have brought, perhaps at great peril to your own 
safety, is marvelously gratifying to me, that desire 
only the glory and happiness of the Romans. Ye 
are, therefore, welcome, both because of your own 
love and loyalty, and also because of your assur- 
ances that ye utter the suppressed voice of Rome, 
and of all Italy; but yet I will deal with you can- 
didly, even as your loyalty deserves. 

“To march upon Rome under existing circum- 
stances would be only to bring upon beautiful Italy 
the horrors of a civil war, and so harass mine own 
people, and destroy mine own heritage. This I 
desire to avoid; this I have no heart to do. 

“ The love and loyalty of the people (which you 
so confidently promise), unorganized and undis- 
ciplined, is not a force that can avail, either to 
avert the calamities of war, or to render the war 
brief and decisive. The information I desire, ye 
have not given; and that which ye have brought, 
although agreeable news indeed, is only a pleasing 
sentiment, and not a living and available force.” 

“ Most royal Augustus,” said the spokesman of 


8o DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


the delegates, “ what information more than we 
have given does thy superior wisdom desire? ” 

“ I wish to be advised whether there is any one 
class of the Roman people, having common hopes 
and interests enough to give them unity and co- 
herence of purpose and of action, and organiza- 
tion enough to understand and to work in unison 
for a common end, upon whom I can rely, with 
good hope, that when the power of Maxentius is 
once overthrown they can prevent it from rallying 
again. I will have no protracted war in Italy to 
waste the fairest portion of mine empire and dis- 
tress my loyal people.” 

“ Alas ! ” said the ambassador, “ beautiful Italy 
is rent by factions, and no such body of men as 
thou desirest can anywhere be found. All those 
who care more for their native land than for their 
own private schemes for selfish advancement or re- 
venge, turn their eyes to thee, and will hail thy 
coming with gladness, although they know that 
the only road to peace lies through the bloody 
fields of civil war.” 

“ Then,” said Constantine, calmly and deliber- 
ately, “ ye must organize such a body. I will not 
march on Rome until ye shall have done so. But ye 
must accomplish this work speedily, or I will seize 
upon the only alternative that remains to me — a 
measure so radical and heroic that the adoption 
thereof will shake the whole fabric of the empire 


THE BANDS OF ANTI-CHRIST 


8i 


to its lowest foundations. So that ye must return 
and organize such a body of men as I have desig- 
nated, and give me sure means to gain their con- 
fidence and aid, or I will — ” 

Constantine did not then complete the sentence, 
but gazed around the whole circle of the delegates 
with calm and searching eyes. Then, after a long 
pause, he continued: “ Or I will invite the slaves 
to join my standard and supply mine army, and 
will manumit every man who does so with alacrity 
— him, and his family, and their descendants for- 
ever.” 

A thrill of absolute horror passed over the as- 
sembly at this proposal, that was as novel as it 
was daring. 

Thereupon the Emperor enjoined upon them to 
set out for Rome on the next day, and proceed im- 
mediately to organize, in every city, town and 
hamlet, a body of men such as he had desired; and 
having given orders for their proper entertain- 
ment, he dismissed the delegates with royal grace 
and dignity. 

These delegates at once perceived that Constan- 
tine thoroughly comprehended the political status 
of the empire, and had determined upon the course 
he would pursue. The broken communications 
which they were enabled to hold with each other 
while upon the road did not enable them to arrive 
at any satisfactory conclusion, and they finally 


82 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


agreed that before passing the confines of Gaul, 
beyond which it would be necessary for them to 
separate and take different routes to Rome, in or- 
der to escape the notice of the officers of Maxen- 
tius, they would meet in solemn conclave, and de- 
vote a day to the discussion of the momentous 
duties devolved upon them by the orders of Con- 
stantine; and to consider the fearful alternative 
which he would accept if they should disregard 
the imperial mandate. 

The day came quickly, and, in a secluded valley 
at the foot of the Alps, they met and called upon 
the oldest and highest of their number to preside 
over their deliberations; and upon taking his sta- 
tion, the president invited every one to speak who 
had any counsel to offer upon the matter which so 
deeply concerned them and the Roman State. 

During several hours, one after another rose, 
and, little by little, the business was considered in 
every possible ramification; and the general opin- 
ion seemed to be settling down into the conclusion 
that it was impossible for them, or any others, to 
organize such a body as their chosen emperor de- 
sired, without their attempt to do so coming to 
the knowledge of Maxentius; and that the coming 
of such knowledge to the ear of that cruel tyrant 
would be the signal for death and confiscation unto 
all of them and all their friends. They further 
thought that if Constantine should dare to issue a 


THE BANDS OF ANTI-CHRIST 


83 


proclamation of freedom to the slaves, that act 
would consolidate all the freemen of Italy against 
him, and render a hopeful cause absolutely hope- 
less; and that even a victory, gained by means so 
desperate and so contrary to all the law and senti- 
ment of the empire, would be worse for them than 
a defeat. That the demand of the Emperor was 
unreasonable, his alternative too horrible to con- 
template, and that self-preservation would require 
them to withdraw the invitation they had given 
him to march upon Rome, and endeavor to make 
their peace with Maxentius. 

This, perhaps, would have been the resolution 
reached, but before a vote could be taken upon it 
a man who had hitherto kept silent, and who, in- 
deed, was unknown to all except one or two of 
the delegates, rose and began to address them in 
tones so singularly musical and persuasive that 
from the very beginning of his remarks all eyes 
were directed toward him, and all ears turned to 
catch his words; and thus he spake: 

“Patricians! Senators! A poor scholar of 
Caesarea, that hath never mingled in any public 
affairs, nor hath held office under the empire — 
who, indeed, hath only joined himself to your 
illustrious company by the partiality of personal 
friendship in one of your number — would not 
be presumptuous enough to claim your attention 
if it had not already become too plainly appar- 


84 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


ent that the wisdom of those who have given 
counsel hath failed to point out any reasonable 
solution of the difficulties that seem to hem us in 
on every side. But, while inferior in rank, learn- 
ing, and intelligence, to even the least among you, 
his studious life hath been devoted to learning the 
history of nations and of men; and, for a long 
time past, it hath been his purpose especially to 
investigate and understand the present condition 
of the Roman Empire. I am myself so poor as 
not to despise the poverty of others ; so obscure as 
to feel a deep and abiding interest in even the 
humbler class of citizens; so ignorant as to be 
willing to learn of all. And, therefore, it hap- 
pens that sources of information which ye could 
not see by reason of your elevation, socially and 
politically, above those regions of human life in 
which they most abound, have long been familiar 
to my sight and hearing. 

“ Patricians ! Senators ! I affirm, from long 
and careful observation, that there exists to-day 
in Rome, and throughout Italy, a body of men, 
more numerous than any one faction in the land, 
not inferior to any other in intelligence and virtue, 
comprising some of every grade of social and po- 
litical life, but chiefly consisting of the lower and 
middle classes, all bound together by ties com- 
pared with which the military oath is weaker than 
a rope of sand; a body more compactly organized 


THE BANDS OF ANTI-CHRIST 


35 


than any legion, possessed of a common treasury, 
possessed of means of inter-communication more 
safe and speedy than the postal service of the em- 
pire; a body of men whom ye loathe and despise 
only because ye do not truly know them — I think, 
only because ye do not know them — in fact, a 
secret and thoroughly-organized society within 
the empire, that could, if it would, answer the 
purposes of Constantine more perfectly than any 
organization ye could devise by years of open, 
uninterrupted toil. Think ye it would be a work 
worth while to seek the aid of this wonderful com- 
munity in the sore straits to which ye are now re- 
duced? ” 

Having so spoken the orator sat down, and im- 
mediately there was a great clamor, some crying, 
“Who is he? Who is the orator?” and others, 
“Who are those men — the strange community 
of which he speaks? ” 

But the speaker sat silent and apparently un- 
conscious of the tumult which his words had 
caused, until the clamor wore itself out, and the 
president courteously arose, saying: 

“ The assembled delegates desire to know who 
is this able and learned orator, and the name of 
that mysterious community to which he hath re- 
ferred. Will the orator be kind enough to an- 
swer these requests? ” 


86 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


Then rose up the same man again, and in a 
quiet and dignified manner responded: 

“ I am the poor scholar Eusebius, of Caesarea, 
and the community of which I spoke is the Church 
of Jesus Christ — a people known and detested 
by the name of Christians.” 

A murmur of surprise, almost of indignation 
and contempt, ran through the whole assembly, 
and it seemed uncertain how this information 
would be received. Then a sour-faced, tall pa- 
trician rose, and in cynical tones addressed the del- 
egates : 

“ This head is mine, but the most holy Em- 
peror Maxentius wants it. I have some houses 
in Rome, some villas on the Arno, some estates in 
Spain, and the emperor wanteth these also. If 
he take off this head, the rest is his by law. Have 
ye also some heads? some houses? some villas? 
some estates? I am ready to take any road to 
save my head and my estates, even to setting free 
my thousand slaves; but slaves are property — 
Christians are not. I therefore say, better the 
Christians than the slaves! All that I know of 
this mysterious people leads me to give entire cre- 
dence to the statement ye have heard as to the 
numbers and organization of their communities. 
But the orator hath said that they could give the 
Emperor all the aid he needs if they would. That 
Sounds strange, indeed! Surely if this supposed 


THE BANDS OF ANTI-CHRIST 87 

criminal association, that hath been pursued and 
punished for three centuries, were promised pro- 
tection for the future, they ought gladly to prom- 
ise, and to give their aid, their very lives, if need 
be, to the Emperor! For mine own part, I am 
ready to advocate a law allowing them to build 
a temple on the Capitoline Hill, and raise Christ’s 
statue in the Pantheon, if they can give us such 
indispensable assistance. Surely a god the more 
or less in Rome is a matter of much smaller con- 
sequence to men of brains than are the lives and 
property of all of us and thousands more, who 
hope no good thing of Maxentius. I therefore 
say again: Better the Christians than the 
slaves! ” 

And this remark seemed to be caught as a key- 
note that gave direction to the sentiment of all, 
and soon there was a unanimous cry of : “ Better 

the Christians than the slaves ! ” 

Thereupon many expressed a desire to hear 
Eusebius declare his opinion as to how and upon 
what terms the aid of the Christians might be 
secured, and, at their solicitation, he rose once 
more. 

“ Patricians! Senators! From long and care- 
ful study and observation of the Christian com- 
munity (or, rather communities, for each congre- 
gation seems to constitute an independent democ- 
racy) , I am of opinion that it would be a work of 


88 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


great difficulty and delicacy to induce them to take 
sides with the emperor, or take sides at all, in 
the impending war; but I have no hesitation in 
saying that, if they can be led to do so, the over- 
whelming weight of their numbers and influence 
would reduce the whole war to one single battle, 
which would, of course, be necessary to destroy 
the army of the Emperor Maxentius; for, if de- 
feated, it would be impossible for him to raise 
another force. The difficulties in the way are 
very great, and arise out of the fact that the re- 
ligion, to which they cling with a steadfast and 
immovable tenacity that despises tortures and 
death, is, in some remarkable particulars, directly 
in conflict with the laws and customs of the em- 
pire. Christianity is a pure, unmixed democracy, 
based upon faith. This religion absolutely for- 
bids them to bear arms, and their history shows 
that during three hundred years no body of Chris- 
tians has undertaken to defend itself against 
even the grossest injustice, and no individual Chris- 
tian hath ever raised a weapon, even in defense 
of the religion for which he would not hesitate 
to die. They are also forbidden by their religion 
to own a slave; and from this fact it happens that 
the number of the freemen is so rapidly increas- 
ing everywhere. The religion also forbids them 
to acquire, hold, or transmit, any private property 


THE BANDS OF ANTI-CHRIST 


89 


beyond their daily bread, and they include in the 
term ‘ property ’ not only estates real and per- 
sonal, but also offices, prerogatives and privileges 
of birth or rank. They hold their property in 
common, and regard all laws which recognize 
private rights as Mammon-worship — the most 
wicked and abominable crime. They also regard 
marriage as a sacrament of religion, and considei* 
the Roman laws of divorce as sinful and invalid. 
The whole purpose of their strange faith and prac- 
tice for three hundred years hath been to secure 
the absolute fraternity of all who believe, to ab- 
rogate all social and political distinctions between 
man and man, and between different classes of 
men, making the family the sole basis, and the 
church the sole superstructure, of society. To a 
community organized upon such principles as 
these, the observance of which is secured beyond 
the reach of human statutes or customs by their 
unwavering faith in future rewards and punish- 
ments, any alliance with a mighty empire, the 
whole social and political life of which is founded 
upon war, slavery, imperialism, aristocracy and 
property rights, would, at first blush, seem to be 
gross and unpardonable sacrilege. Yet, by cau- 
tious management, it might be arranged. I think 
that it might be arranged; and I would pledge 
my life that, if it can be done, the Emperor Con- 


90 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


stantine can secure all the aid, in men and in re- 
sources of every kind, that he can possibly re- 
quire.” 

After some further discussion and inquiry, it 
was agreed upon that some of them should return 
at once to Lutetia and communicate to the Em- 
peror the facts imparted by Eusebius, and that 
the others should prosecute their journey to Rome, 
and open up communication with the Christians 
— a task which Eusebius undertook to facilitate, 
saying that he knew some among them even inti- 
mately well, and had such access to them as would 
enable him to maintain constant intercourse be- 
tween them and the patricians and Senators who 
desired to win them over to the Emperor. 


CHAPTER VII 


WHICH SHOWETH HOW MARCELLUS CON- 
DUCTED HIMSELF 

TXT’HEN the centurion turned away from Dor- 
* * cas and hurried into the house, he had no 
misgiving as to the wisdom and propriety of the 
course which he had sworn to pursue, and being 
very thoroughly persuaded in his own mind that 
not only his own wishes, but also every dictate 
of reason, of humanity, and of affectionate re- 
gard for the beautiful maiden, required him to 
snatch her away, by force if need be, out of the 
hands of the odious and malignant Christians, 
compel her to sacrifice to Venus, and so place her 
beyond the reach of that atheistic and abominable 
sect. He doubted not that this was the wisest 
and best course for both of them; and his resolu- 
tion to rescue the dear and beautiful girl from the 
pernicious influence of that blighting superstition 
was sustained both by the zeal of a missionary 
and by the passion of a lover. He, therefore, 
quickly prepared the poppy, the doves, and the 
myrtle and roses, which were customarily used in 
9i 


92 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


making sacrifices to the foam-born goddess, and, 
having very quickly arranged all things to his own 
satisfaction, he hastened back to the spot at which 
he had left Dorcas but a few minutes before, and 
was overwhelmed with astonishment when he 
found that she had disappeared. Then he called 
her: “ Dorcas! Dorcas! ” Called more loudly: 
“ Dorcas! Dorcas! Dorcas! ” Called with might 
and main: “Dorcas! Dorcas! Dorcas!” until 
the clear, powerful, resonant cry rang out over the 
whole villa, and summoned the domestics even 
from the inmost recesses of the house; but still 
no answer came. Then to the thronging slaves 
whom his ringing voice had speedily collected, he 
said: 

“ The maiden Dorcas, whom I left here but a 
few minutes ago, hath strangely disappeared. 
Either she hath fled, or hath been abducted. 
Haste, all ye, in different directions, and seek and 
find her ! ” 

But their search was futile. One by one, until 
far into the night, weary and disheartened, the 
slaves returned, and as they severally came home, 
the young centurion questioned each, and elicited 
every fact and conjecture gathered in the progress 
of the search, and then dismissed that one and 
waited impatiently for another. From all of these 
reports together the unhappy youth reached the 
conclusion that Dorcas had fled along the Appian 


MARCELLUS’ CONDUCT 


93 


Way from the city and the villa, and that pursuit 
for the present would be unavailing. He doubted 
not that she had gone to place herself under the 
protection of some secret congregation of the 
hated Christians; and her declaration that she was 
one of that strange and impious sect explained to 
him her absence every Seventh day, a fact which 
both he and Varus had accounted for by their be- 
lief that she was accustomed to visit some syna- 
gogue of the Jews. 

Hour after hour the restless and unhappy 
youth strode back and forth along the gravel walks 
until the dawn came stealing up the east, but no 
reflection served to quiet him, and no resolve 
seemed stable and reasonable enough for his mind 
to fix upon it, so that he could not determine what 
to do. The sudden breaking off of his pleasant 
association with Dorcas, that had been for months 
the chief source of his happiness, was worse than 
death. Only when he knew that she was gone — 
perhaps forever — did he fully realize how tyran- 
nous a hold his love for her had taken on his 
heart and brain. He felt that if she had died 
beside him he could have endured the loss of her 
better that way, than to think of her still living, 
but not for him; still living, but beyond his reach; 
still living, but taught and trained to hate him by 
the secret and dreaded influence of the terrible 
superstition of the Christians — a demoniac creed 


94 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 

that outlawed human love, and hated all man- 
kind! 

“ She would be mine own gladly and lovingly,” 
he said, “ but for the influence of that fearful and 
inhuman creed.” 

“ There is none like her,” he sobbed in his great 
anguish. “There is none like her; no, not one! 
I cannot live without thee, Dorcas; or, if I exist, 
life will be so lonely, maimed, and wretched, that 
death would be a welcome refuge. Come back 
to me, Dorcas; oh, come back! ” 

Then fiercer thoughts would seize his heart, and 
he would vent his bitter wrath against the 
hated Christians, “ the enemies of the human, 
race,” “ a cruel, malevolent and criminal associa- 
tion,” “ that had renounced the religion and cere- 
monies instituted by our fathers,” that “ had 
abandoned the way of reason and of nature,” out- 
lawing the divine love which the kind and gentle 
gods of Rome had planted in the human heart to 
compensate for the stings of adverse fate and beau- 
tify our earthly life. 

A thousand impracticable schemes chased each 
other through his perturbed spirit and yielded no 
satisfying result, until, outworn with anxiety and 
grief, he threw himself upon his couch and for sev- 
eral hours forgot his wretchedness in sleep. Re- 
freshed and calmed by his brief but dreamless slum- 
ber, he arose, and quietly started off on foot along 


MARCELLUS’ CONDUCT 


95 


the Appian Way. By minute and systematic, yet 
seemingly careless, inquiries of those whom he met 
or saw in the adjacent gardens, orchards and fields, 
some of whom had often seen the beautiful young 
girl tripping along the road, and by comparing 
the information thus elicited with facts already 
within his knowledge, Marcellus reached two very 
definite conclusions — first, that the Seventh-day 
journeys habitually made by Dorcas did not ex- 
tend beyond a certain ruin, because beyond that 
point no one remembered to have even seen the 
girl; that at this point the young girl had been 
accustomed to leave the highway in the direction 
of a range of hills under which the abandoned 
villa had been situated, because upon the other 
side were cultivated lands, through which she could 
not have gone every week for a year or more 
without being seen or known. This was not much, 
he thought, but it was something. He knew, that 
after leaving the Appian Way, Dorcas must have 
plunged at once into that tangled maze of un- 
derbrush, brambles, vines running wild upon the 
untrimmed trees, and all the luxuriant vegetation 
which in that semi-tropical climate soon conceals 
the harsher features of ruin and decay. This 
much his unflagging search had yielded him, and 
at nightfall he turned his footsteps homeward, re- 
solved that upon the following morning he would 
explore the waste, and that not even the slightest 


96 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


trace by which it might be possible to follow Dor- 
cas should escape his anxious eyes. 

On the next day, and the next, and day after 
day for more than a month, he spent in that soli- 
tude every hour that he could spare from necessary 
duties, exploring the grounds foot by foot until he 
could recognize, like the faces of familiar friends, 
every tree and vine and shrub, and even the most 
minute and indistinguishable features of the earth 
and of its various growths ; but nothing came of it. 
He was discouraged, almost hopeless, but deter- 
mined never to relinquish the search until he had 
discovered Dorcas, or had learned whither she 
had gone. 

The youth grew thin and haggard with this un- 
remitting anxiety and grief. His looks and move- 
ments became nervous — almost jerky; he lost 
the calm, self-poised grace and dignity which 
characterizes the officers of a Roman Legion, and 
the men of action of every race and clime, so that 
no busy dreamer, whose mind wears out his body, 
could have his physical beauty more greatly 
marred. 

The Vice-Prefect Varus had been troubled and 
annoyed beyond measure by the abrupt disappear- 
ance of his beautiful and accomplished assistant, 
and he had elicited from the young centurion, by 
persistent questioning, nearly all that had occurred 
between himself and Dorcas. Of course he con- 


MARCELLUS’ CONDUCT 


97 


demned the maiden as one deluded by the malevo- 
lent superstition of the Christians, blinded to her 
own good and to all that pertained thereto, and 
insensible to the right and duties which she owed 
to himself and to his only son, and his bitter hatred 
towards that odious sect grew stronger and more 
unrelenting as he daily marked the havoc which 
disappointment was making in the health and 
spirits of his son. He would not have hesitated 
to set the whole police force of the city upon her 
track, nor, if she had been found, would he have 
hesitated to deliver her up, bound hand and foot, 
to the centurion; but he knew that it was almost 
useless, in any case, to pursue a Christian who had 
fled in order to escape the vengeance of the Roman 
laws, it being well established by his own experi- 
ence and by the traditions and official records of 
his office that any Christian who wanted to do 
so could disappear as effectually as if the earth 
had opened and had swallowed him up, never to 
be recaptured, except by merest accident. Those 
who believed everything attributed this well-known 
fact to witch-craft and “ the strong magic ” of the 
sect; those who believed nothing accounted for it 
by the conjecture that the Christians had a per- 
fect, secret organization among themselves, and 
hiding places unknown to, and undiscoverable by, 
the Roman authorities. Varus, therefore, thought 
that it would be not only a waste of time, but also 


98 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


a great annoyance, involving an injurious notoriety 
for the young centurion, to institute an official 
search for the missing maiden. In this opinion 
Marcellus fully coincided; but he would not aban- 
don either the hope he cherished of some day 
finding Dorcas nor the ceaseless effort he was mak- 
ing for that purpose. 

In vain the Vice-Prefect brought to bear upon 
him all the wise suggestions of his own philoso- 
phy; in vain he contrived to engage the young 
man in extra military duties and ever-changing 
amusements, seeking to rouse his interest in his 
profession, or to get him committed to licentious 
pleasures; nothing could wean him from his love 
for Dorcas, nor from his determination to dis- 
cover her again; and the Vice- Prefect, finally re- 
alizing the fact that a great, strong, earnest na- 
ture absorbed by any master passion soon passes 
beyond the reach of all philosophical treatises, 
and calmly sacrifices even its own lusts, ambitions 
and vanities, left the young man to his own re- 
sources, hoping that with the lapse of time, the 
buoyancy of youth would cure him of a seemingly 
fatal passion. 


CHAPTER VIII 


JUSTICE TO A CHRISTIAN AFTER THE HIGH 
ROMAN FASHION 

JLTEART-SORE, disconsolate, indifferent to all 
A A his usual pleasures and pursuits, the young 
centurion was one day wandering about the head- 
quarters of the Prefect of the city, which was the 
usual place for the administration of justice. 
While he was lounging listlessly about, seeking 
some way “ to kill time,” his attention was en- 
listed by hearing the Vice-Prefect who that day 
sat for the trial of criminals, order the lictors “ to 
bring forth the Christian.” 

He followed the lictors into the hall, and saw 
them place in the prisoner’s dock the Christian who 
had just been brought up for examination; and 
Marcellus listened to the proceedings, because he 
had nothing else to do and was aweary of the 
world. 

“What is thy name?” asked the Vice- Prefect 
of the prisoner. 

“ My name is Lucanius.” 

“ Thine age.” 

“ Forty years.” 


99 


100 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“Thy place of residence ?” 

“ Near Rome, beyond the Tiber.” 

“ Thine occupation? ” 

“ I am a dresser of vines and a gardener.” 

“ Thou art brought before me charged with the 
crime of being a Christian. Dost thou compre- 
hend the nature of the accusation? ” 

“ I believe I do so fully.” 

“ Art thou guilty or not guilty? ” 

“ I am a Christian, but am not guilty.” 

“ Thou art accused of belonging to the infamous 
and pestilent sect, the vile and criminal associa- 
tion, denominated Christians; what plea dost thou 
make for thyself? ” 

“ Most honorable Roman, I do not know of 
any vile or criminal association whatever. I am 
verily a Christian, but I have done no crime. Is 
there any such thing as murder, robbery, larceny, 
lying, cheating or fraud, or any immoral or un- 
worthy conduct, charged against me by any one? 
If so, I plead not guilty. I am a Christian, but 
have violated no law of the city or of the em- 
pire ! ” 

“ Stretch forth thy right hand,” said the Vice- 
Prefect. 

Lucanius did so, and it was manifest that the 
thumb of his right hand had been amputated. 

“ So,” cried the officer, “ thou art one of the 
4 Thumbless ! ’ Where is thy thumb ? Didst 


AFTER THE HIGH ROMAN FASHION ioi 


thou not cut off thy thumb in order to avoid mili- 
tary service due to the most holy emperor (as so 
many of the same pusillanimous and pernicious 
sect have done) ? And yet thou sayest that 4 thou 
has violated no law of the empire ! ’ ” 

“ Verily,” answered Lucanius, “ I did ampu- 
tate this thumb in order to avoid military service ; 
for the law of Christ doth not suffer a Christian 
to bear arms. But the Roman law does not require 
a thumbless man to bear arms, so that this thing, 
done for conscience* sake long years ago, is not a 
violation of the law.” 

“ Art thou a Roman, and yet dost not know 
that the first duty of a Roman is to bear arms in 
behalf of his country? Or art thou a coward 
and a slave thus ignominiously to maim thyself?” 

“ There was no law forbidding any Roman to 
cut off his thumb if he had cause to do so, and I 
had good cause enough.” 

“I asked thee art thou a coward? Art thou 
afraid?’* said the Vice- Prefect angrily. 

Then said the Christian mildly: “ Most hon- 
orable Roman, I do not think that I would be 
afraid to die, but I would be afraid to put an- 
other man to death. ‘ Thou shalt not kill,’ is the 
law of God; and the fact that an emperor, or some 
other man, might order me to perpetrate the crime, 
can furnish no excuse for my conscience. I might 
face death, perhaps, as quietly as other men do 


102 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


— for personal courage is the lowest and common- 
est virtue of mankind, if it be a virtue — but I 
would not inflict death or wounds on any man that 
lives.” 

“ So, so ! ” murmured the Vice- Prefect. 
u These Christians will not fight, not even to de- 
fend themselves against injustice; not even in de- 
fense of the superstition for which they do not fear 
to die I ” 

Then in a louder tone he continued: “Dost 
thou know the edict of the most holy Emperor 
Maxentius concerning the odious Christians?” 

“ Yea,” said Lucanius, “ I have heard the 
law ! ” 

“ And thou knowest that the law requires me 
to put thee to torture until thou deny this Christ 
and burn incense to some god of Rome; or until 
thou confess the secret purposes and designs of 
this accursed and criminal association, which have 
hitherto baffled all inquiry of the government; 
or until I am satisfied that thou art hopelessly ob- 
durate and blinded by this pernicious superstition.” 

“Yea,” answered the Christian calmly, “such, 
indeed, do I suppose to be thy duty and thy pur- 
pose ; nor do I blame thee, noble Roman, although 
I would that the law were not so cruel and unjust. 
Let me solemnly declare unto thee (as I suppose 
others have often done before) that the only rea- 
son the government hath always failed, and must 


AFTER THE HIGH ROMAN FASHION 103 

always fall, to discover any secret, criminal pur- 
pose or design of the Christian communities, is 
because they have no such design or purpose. 
There is nothing secret in Christianity, except that 
so long as we are persecuted by the law we hold 
it as a matter of conscience and of brotherly love 
not to betray the brethren.” 

“ I have heard all that before/’ said the Vice- 
Prefect harshly. “Thou knowest the law; wilt 
thou now curse this Christ, and burn incense to 
Jupiter, without the torture, and so save thyself 
intolerable pain? ” 

“Nay!” said Lucanius quietly; “not for any 
tortures that thou canst inflict, God helping me! ” 
“Take him, lictors! With the thumb-screws 
crush ye the remaining fingers of the hand which 
he hath mutilated, one after the other, and report 
thou to me his behavior ! ” 

Then seized they him, and hurried him into an 
adjoining chamber, whence soon came the moan- 
ings of intolerable anguish shuddering through 
the hall. Then the man’s voice was heard, ex- 
claiming : 

“ O Jesus, Saviour, strengthen me! ” 

Then soon afterward came in the lictors, and 
reported to the magistrate, saying: 

“ Vice-Prefect, we crushed two fingers, and then 
ordered the Christian to recant, whereupon he be- 
gan to call upon Jesus; and then we crushed the 


io 4 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


two remaining fingers, and the man endured it not, 
but fainted dead away.” 

“ Bring him hither ! ” said the Vice-Prefect. 

Then they brought back Lucanius, and already 
he looked weak and old and haggard. Then 
the Vice-Prefect fixed his eyes upon the man, and 
said: 

“ Thou hast tasted of the thumb-screws, Chris- 
tian, and thou remainest obstinate; but we have 
yet the rack, that giveth torture compared with 
which that which thou hath suffered is but child’s 
play. Wilt thou recant or not?” Then an- 
swered Lucanius : 

“ Most honorable Roman, I knew not whether 
I could endure this agony, and did greatly fear 
that the fierce pain might force me to dishonor 
Christ; but now I know. I praise God that hath 
strengthened me to suffer all things which thou 
thinkest thy duty requireth thee to afflict me with. 
Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the 
Holy Ghost, Amen ! ” 

“ It is enough,” said the magistrate to the lie- 
tors. “ This kind never yield, and farther ques- 
tion would be useless cruelty. Keep ye him safely 
until sunrise to-morrow; give him to eat and drink, 
and in the morning ye shall release him from cus- 
tody without molestation.” 

Then the Christian bowed low, saying : 

“ I thank thee much, for thou art merciful, and 


AFTER THE HIGH ROMAN FASHION 105 


hast not pressed thy legal authority against me 
farther than thy duty doth require.” 

“ Certainly not,” said the Vice-Prefect. “ A 
Roman officer must do his duty, without regard 
to any personal feeling of favor or of hatred. 
Thou hast borne thyself well, and thou wouldst be 
a worthy man if once set free from thine abomina- 
ble superstition.” 

Then the lictors took him to his dungeon, to be 
confined until sunrise, as had been ordered. 

Then said the Vice-Prefect: 

“ Bring in the girl ! ” 

And the lictors brought before him Phoebe, the 
daughter of Lucanius, “ charged with the crime 
of being a Christian; ” and the maiden being 
placed in the prisoner’s dock, her examination pro- 
ceeded as in the former case, eliciting the fact that 
she was a Christian, of the age of twenty years, 
the daughter of the former prisoner. 

The girl was a thorough Roman in every fea- 
ture, and although her large and lustrous eyes be- 
trayed her secret terror, she was calm and self- 
possessed, revealing in the patient quiet of her 
bearing the self-control that comes of long training 
in the direction of repressing all outward signs of 
emotion. 

“ Thou art young and comely, girl,” said the 
Vice-Prefect, “ and the fact that no indecorum is 
laid to thy charge except that thou hast embraced 


io6 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


the pestilent and inhuman superstition of the Chris- 
tians, inclineth me to pity thee; but thou knowest 
that I must and will enforce the law against thee, 
unless thou come hither and upon the little altar 
there burn incense to the goddess Venus, denying 
this malignant Christ. Wilt thou not do so, 
maiden? ” 

“ Nay, verily! ” 

“ Dost thou know the law concerning the Chris- 
tian maidens? ” 

“ I do not! ” 

“ From the days of the Emperor Nero until 
recently,” said the Vice-Prefect, “ those women 
who confessed their adherence to this pernicious 
sect were thrown to the lions or decapitated, or 
burned at the stake. But this ancient severity hath 
been relaxed by the more recent emperors, and, 
under the most holy Emperor Maxentius, they are, 
of mercy, no longer put to death. The law sends 
them not ad leonem , but ad lenonem” 

u The emperor is mistaken in regard to clem- 
ency,” said Phoebe, “ for I, and every Christian 
girl, would prefer to go to the lions, rather than 
endure that of which thou speakest.” 

“ But the law is more merciful unto thee than 
is thy malevolent and accursed superstition. I 
will give thee until sunset to consider of thy con- 
dition. If by that hour thou shalt consent to curse 
this Christ and burn the incense, thou mayst go 


AFTER THE HIGH ROMAN FASHION 107 

hence free; but if thou remainest obdurate, the law 
shall be enforced, whether thou wilt or not. Think 
thou well upon it. Lictors, take her to her dun- 
geon I ” 

Then they led the girl into one of the dungeons 
of the place, and closed and shut the door upon 
her. The small, dark room contained only an 
iron couch, a chair, a small wooden table, on 
which there was a water jar and an earthen mug. 
The girl sank down upon her knees in silent, ear- 
nest prayer. 

The Vice-Prefect remained engaged in the ex- 
amination of other prisoners. He remarked that 
there was never any necessity for witnesses on the 
examination of those who were charged with the 
crime of Christianity, if the charge were true, be- 
cause in all his experience he had never known one 
of them to deny the fact. 

Just at sunset the Vice-Prefect ordered a lictor 
to inquire whether, after reflection upon the mat- 
ter, the girl Phoebe was willing to save herself by 
denying Jesus and burning incense to the idol. 
The lictor reported that she quietly but obstinately 
refused to do either. 

“ Then the law must take its course/’ said the 
Vice-Prefect, and the young girl was led back to 
her dungeon and the door locked upon her. But 
Marcellus, obeying a sudden impulse, pressed for- 
ward, and, saluting the Vice-Prefect, asked that 


io8 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


he might be permitted to visit the Christian 
maiden’s cell. The magistrate evinced some sur- 
prise that a young patrician should make such a 
request, but wrote the necessary order on a papyrus 
and directed a lictor to conduct the centurion to the 
prison. 

And Marcellus went out following the lictor, 
and when they had reached the entrance to the 
dungeon the lictor delivered the order to the sentry 
on duty there, and thereupon the sentry opened 
the door and the centurion passed into the dun- 
geon, and the door was closed. 


CHAPTER IX 

A FAIR CONTRACT FOR A PAGAN 

'1X7’ HEN the young centurion entered the cell 
" ^ of Phoebe, the girl instinctively drew away 
to that side of the room into which the fast fading 
light of day sifted through a small, narrow win- 
dow that was well secured by transverse iron bars 
morticed deeply into the walls of solid stone. Ob- 
serving the growing darkness of the dungeon, 
Marcellus rapped on the heavy door with his 
sword-hilt, and when the sentry answered, he said : 
44 Bring thou a lamp hither ; ” and soon the sentry 
opened the door and gave unto him a small lamp 
lighted, which the centurion placed upon the table. 
Then laying his sword across the table, he seated 
himself upon the only chair, and turning to the 
young girl, he said, in harsh and peremptory tones : 
44 Come thou hither, and be seated upon this couch ! 
I would talk with thee, and see thy face when thou 
dost answer ! ” 

The frightened girl hesitated for a moment to 
obey him, and gazed appealingly into the young 
man’s haggard but determined face. 44 Come 
thou hither,” he said again, with sterner accents. 

109 


no DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


Then, preserving her self-possession by a mighty 
effort, she calmly came forward and took the seat 
upon the couch indicated by the gesture of his 
hand, near and immediately in front of him, with 
the lamp-light shining full upon her. The cen- 
turion turned his haggard face and gazed into her 
timid eyes long and earnestly, with a look as cruel 
and hard as any murderer’s visage ever wore, and 
then, in tones husky with some strong but sup- 
pressed passion, he said: “Thou art a Chris- 
tian, and thou knowest the sentence passed upon 
thee; but I would know more of the accursed and 
criminal association to which thou dost belong — 
and I will question thee. If thou dost answer me 
truthfully and promptly, without any equivocation 
or evasion, I will show thee respect and kindness; 
if thou dost lie to me, or if thou dost prevaricate, 
or if thou refuse to answer, or if thou dost seek to 
conceal anything of which I ask thee, I will in no 
way stand between thee and the sentence of the 
court. Wilt thou be truthful, , direct, and without 
deceit, or not? ” 

His hard but feverish eyes were fixed unblench- 
ingly upon those of the shrinking girl. But Phoebe 
calmly answered: “I thank God, Roman, this 
night, that there is no act of all my life that need- 
eth to be concealed. There is nothing in the faith 
of a Christian but what all men are invited and 
earnestly exhorted to know and examine for them- 


A FAIR CONTRACT FOR A PAGAN hi 


selves. Thou canst put no question to me, cen- 
turion, which I need hesitate to answer truthfully 
and unreservedly, either concerning my own poor 
life, if thou dost wish to examine that, or concern- 
ing our pure, peaceful, harmless, and glorious re- 
ligion, except that I will not betray any who are 
known to me to be Christians; nor will I reveal 
unto thee any sign or word by which the perse- 
cuted recognize each other. Except these two 
things, ask what thou wilt, and I will answer thee 
truly, directly, and intelligently, as far as my little 
knowledge may serve me.” 

“ Dost thou belong to any organized body, or 
society, among the Christians?” 

“ Yea,” answered Phoebe, “ and have done so 
from infancy. I was raised up in the Church.” 

“ Hast thou been accustomed to take part in the 
secret rites and ceremonies of these societies?” 

“ Assuredly,” answered Phoebe; “ but thou must 
know that there is nothing in the nature of secrecy 
in our Christianity. On the contrary, the Church 
would gladly hold all its services in the light of 
day — publicly — if the Roman law allowed it; 
only, while the persecution continues, we are com- 
pelled to worship in secret.” 

“ What are your rites and ceremonies? What 
eidolons or images do ye use in them? What do 
the Christians do in these assemblies?” 

“ It would take long to tell thee all intelligibly. 


1 12 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


The principal ceremonies are Baptism, admin- 
istered when one unites himself with one of our 
communities; the Supper of our Lord, consisting 
of a taste of consecrated bread and wine, used 
commonly once a week; singing, prayer, and 
preaching, in which the presbyters explain the 
Sacred Book, or exhort men to the observance of 
the precepts therein contained.” 

“ I know something of all these things of which 
thou hast spoken, from hearing or reading the ex- 
aminations of other Christians; but have they not 
secret rites, which they refuse to reveal, even to 
save themselves from tortures and from death? 
Abominable practices, which shun the light of day, 
and which they are attestated by mighty oaths 
never to disclose? Speak thou the truth!” he 
said, sternly and vehemently. 

“Nay, verily,” said Phoebe; “but whatsoever 
things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, 
whatsoever things are honorable, and whatsoever 
things are of good report, we seek for those things 
earnestly.” 

“ What is the real object of these societies? ” 

“ To preserve and disseminate the knowledge of 
one true God, and of His Son, our Saviour; to 
encourage each other in holy living, and to avoid 
all sin.” 

“ What form of oath or obligation is the bond 
of union among them? ” 


A FAIR CONTRACT FOR A PAGAN 113 


“ There is no oath taken, no obligation executed. 
One who is admitted into a church giveth all that 
he hath for the common good, promises to lead 
a pure and blameless life, and to love the brethren 
— that is, all who are Christians.” 

“ What dost thou suppose to be the chief or 
vital point in the whole system? ” 

“ Only faith in Christ as a Divine Saviour, and 
the Agape; that love for all men, and especially 
for the brethren, for which, I have been told, you 
Romans have no word in your language.” 

“ What is Agape? ” 

“ I hardly know how to tell thee that. The 
nearest word is charity, and that giveth but a por- 
tion of the meaning; for when Paul, who also was 
a prisoner here at Rome for Christ’s sake, seeketh 
to define this charity he saith : ‘ Though I have 

all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and 
have not charity, I am nothing. And though I 
bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and have 
not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suf- 
fereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; 
charity vaunteth not itself; is not puffed up; doth 
not behave itself unseemly; seeketh not her own; 
is not easily provoked; thinketh no evil; rejoiceth 
not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; believeth 
all things; hopeth all things; endureth all things; 
charity never faileth. And now abideth faith, 
hope, charity, these three ; but the greatest of these 


DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


114 

is charity.’ Ah ! Roman, if all men had this di- 
vine charity in the soul of them, no man, woman, 
nor child need ever fear to be wronged or injured 
by any one ; and this grace, the issue of which is a 
life, pure, harmless, useful and beautiful here and 
eternal life in the world to come, is that for which 
all Christians seek.” 

“ Thou lookest as if thou didst believe in the 
verity of that which thou hast spoken! ” said the 
centurion. 

“Yea,” answered Phoebe; “with all my soul 
and strength do I believe, and would to God that 
thou, and all men with thee, did so believe.” 

Then there fell a long silence between them. 
The girl quietly watched him, hoping and praying 
that some holy influence might soften his heart 
toward herself, and save her from all harm, but 
the young man sat with bowed head, and strong, 
inscrutable countenance; submerged in troubled, 
doubtful, bitter thoughts, until he seemed almost 
to have forgotten the presence of his prisoner and 
all their gloomy surroundings. Finally he roused 
himself by a visible effort, and fixing his eyes once 
more upon the young girl’s face, he said, in sud- 
den, imperative tones: “ Knowest thou the Jew, 
Epaphras ? ” 

Instantly the girl’s face, that had begun to glow 
with enthusiasm while she recited the glorious 
hymn of Paul in praise of charity, and that had 


A FAIR CONTRACT FOR A PAGAN 115 

remained bright and hopeful ever since, was 
clouded with a shadow of trouble, but almost a9 
quickly it resumed its usual expression of self-pos- 
session, and after a momentary hesitation she re- 
plied : “I do know an Epaphras, who is an 
Israelite by birth, but whether he be the same of 
whom thou speakest I know not.” 

u Yea,” said Marcellus, with hard, bitter sar- 
casm; “an Israelite by birth; a Christian by re- 
ligion; a learned man, too; perhaps, a teacher 
or a bishop of the sect — dost thou not know 
him?”' 

“ First inform me why thou askest concerning 
him? ” 

“ I perceive that thou dostk:now the man,” said 
Marcellus. “ I do not; but know that he is an 
educated man, and, notwithstanding that, a Chris- 
tian. I seek not to injure him, but only to be cer- 
tain whether thou knowest the man.” 

“ Yea,” said Phoebe; “ I do know him, Roman; 
a great, good and useful man, and a Christian. 
What wouldst thou have of him? ” 

“ Nothing,” replied Marcellus. “ But dost 
thou know that Dorcas, the daughter of Faustina, 
of whom this same Epaphras hath been guardian, 
teacher and friend? ” 

“ I have never seen the maiden,” answered 
Phoebe, “ but have often heard of her; for she is 
an orphan, both of whose parents suffered martyr- 


n6 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


dom for Jesus, and all the churches love and honor 
her.” 

The angry light once more blazed in the young 
man’s feverish eyes, and he demanded harshly: 
“ How is it that thou knowest Epaphras and not 
Dorcas? The guardian and not the ward? ” 

“ Simply from the fact that Epaphras hath 
sometimes held services for our community, but I 
was never at his chapel, nor hath Dorcas, so far 
as I am informed, ever attended ours; therefore, 
I have never met with her.” 

“ That, indeed, seemeth plausible enough,” 
Marcellus said; “ but thou couldst find her for me, 
couldst thou not? ” 

“ Yea, verily,” said Phoebe. “ I could com- 
municate with Epaphras through our own pastor, 
and so easily find the maiden Dorcas.” 

“ Then, if thou wilt swear in good faith that 
thou wilt find and bring her unto me, thou shalt 
go hence unharmed, and I will henceforth stand 
for a friend whose protection thou and thy father 
may safely claim. I will gratify any reasonable 
wish of thine if thou shalt deliver unto me the 
maiden Dorcas.” 

“ Why dost thou so earnestly seek after Dor- 
cas? ” 

“ That is mine own affair,” he answered, 
angrily, “ and cannot in anywise concern thee. 
Thou shalt be safe, I tell thee, and thou and thy 


A FAIR CONTRACT FOR A PAGAN 117 


father shall enjoy my protection, if thou wilt dis- 
cover the girl and give her up to me. If not, 
remember to what thou art condemned; and the 
hours are passing rapidly.” 

The girl blanched with fear and sorrow, but she 
answered boldly: “ Roman, thou canst not name 
a reward for which I would betray my sister Dor- 
cas unto thee ! ” 

a Thy sister!” said Marcellus, furiously. 
“ Even now thou hast declared to me that thou 
didst not even know the girl.” 

“ Yea,” answered Phoebe, quietly; “nor do I 
know her, even by the sight; but she, also, is a 
Christian, and all Christian girls are sisters to 
each other. That is the Agape. I would not 
betray her to secure my life, nor for any price 
that thou couldst offer, if thou didst own the 
empire.” 

“ I do not ask thee to betray the girl. I would 
not injure her; but I want her! Canst thou not 
see that I am miserable because she hath forsaken 
me? Canst thou not see that I suffer because I 
see her face and hear her voice no more? Dios- 
curi! ” he shouted, fiercely; “but thou shalt seek 
and find her for me! Dost thou hear? I say 
thou shalt ! ” 

“ Never! ” she answered, quietly, “unless thou 
first inform me why thou dost so passionately de- 
sire to find her, and I then, knowing all, shall be- 


n8 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


lieve that it is right to aid thee; for if it seemeth 
wrong to me, I will not aid thee, Roman.” 

The young man gazed upon her fiercely and 
fixedly, and saw that it would be useless to attempt 
to compel that seemingly calm and immovable be- 
ing to aid him, or even to promise to do so. 
“ Thou art like unto all that cherish the accursed 
superstition ! ” he cried, with fearful bitterness of 
spirit. “ Calm, immovable, implacable, indiffer- 
ent to the joys and sorrows of all men ! Enemies 
of the human race ! Scorning reward or punish- 
ment alike! Alive only to the terrible bondage 
which this fatal superstition fastens upon the heart 
and brain. Thou darest even to scorn my very 
sorrow, and it would be a crime to pity one so 
pitiless as thou ! ” 

He sprang up and roughly seized the girl by 
the arm; but, although terrified and almost de- 
spairing, she said, with seeming calmness: “ If 
thou dost suffer from any cause, believe me that I 
would rejoice to find it possible for me to aid thee. 
Wilt thou not tell me all, so that I may under- 
stand what may be the right, and do for thee all 
that duty may permit?” 

The girl’s strange calmness, in such striking con- 
trast to his own tempestuous passion, seemed 
greatly to soothe his violence, and he released her, 
saying: “Perhaps thou art right. Sit thou 
there, and I will tell thee all.” 


A FAIR CONTRACT FOR A PAGAN 119 


Then hurriedly, and with feverish voice and 
eyes, he said: “ Dorcas was at the villa of my 
father, the Vice-Prefect Varus, for more than a 
year. She is the loveliest and the most gifted 
girl in all the world, and I love her more than I 
love my life. Suddenly, about a month ago, she 
disappeared — went away of her own accord — 
and she must be concealed somewhere among the 
Christians. I cannot live without her; thou must 
find her for me; ” and then, with almost intoler- 
able supplication in his voice, he added: “ Thou 
wilt find her for me, wilt thou not? ” 

“ Didst thou tell Dorcas of thy love for her? ” 
“ Yea, and that made her fly from me,” he an- 
swered, sadly. 

“ And wouldst thou seek to compel her to re- 
turn to thee, knowing that she loves thee not? ” 
“Dioscuri!” he half shouted; “but Dorcas 
loveth only me. She did tell me that with all 
solemnity, and from her face and manner I do 
know she spoke the truth. And yet she hath for- 
saken me, nor have I seen nor heard of her since 
then.” 

“ Didst thou ask her to become thy wife?” 

“ Nay, I think not. A wife is but a higher sort 
of slave. In Rome we do not marry for love, but 
for interest or convenience. I do not. suppose it 
occurred to me to talk of marriage; but if she 
would only be my wife, I would be a happy man.” 


iao DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“ Perhaps thou hast made a large mistake, cen- 
turion. We Christian maidens marry only when 
we love, and love only when we marry. Our 
church saith : ‘ Be ye not unequally yoked to- 

gether with unbelievers; ’ but if thou hadst desired 
Dorcas in marriage, she might not have left thee. 
Of course, I do not know.” 

“ Only find her for me,” said the young man; 
“ only find her!” 

“ I will do this much for thee,” said Phoebe. 
“ If thou wilt suffer me to go hence unharmed, I 
will obtain speech of Dorcas, as thou knowest I 
can easily do, through Epaphras and our pres- 
byters, and will on the next Sabbath — that is, the 
fourth day from now — meet thee wherever thou 
mayest appoint a place, and will bring unto thee 
any message or letter which Dorcas may desire 
to send. If she refuse to write to thee, or to send 
thee any word, I will nevertheless come unto thee 
again and inform thee exactly how my undertak- 
ing in thy business hath resulted. More than this 
I cannot promise thee to do.” 

“ Dost thou say this in good faith, without 
equivocation or lying?” 

“ Christians never lie,” she answered proudly. 
“ Hast thou known of any Christian that did ever 
lie even to escape the rigor of the Roman laws? ” 

“ Nay,” answered Marcellus, “ and I will even 
trust thy word. If thou shalt prove to be 


A FAIR CONTRACT FOR A PAGAN 121 


true and faithful, I will, henceforth, protect thee 
even if thou shouldst accomplish nothing. Only- 
do all that thou canst do to aid me and thou shalt 
be safe.” 

Then the girl’s dark, luminous eyes grew soft, 
and she took the centurion’s hand in hers, and 
bending low, did kiss his hand, saying: “Thou 
art a man just and merciful according to thy light 
and knowledge. Surely, I think if the maiden 
Dorcas would be wife to any Roman who is not 
a Christian she would marry thee.” 

Then the young man spread his toga on the iron 
couch, saying to her, kindly: “Thou must be 
weary, Phoebe. Repose thou here and have no 
fear. The couch is iron, it is true, but it is smooth 
and thou wilt find it not uncomfortable. It is 
necessary that I, too, remain until the sun shall 
rise, and thou shalt then depart. On the even- 
ing of the fourth day hence come thou to the villa 
of the Vice-Prefect Varus on the Appian Way, 
according to thy promise, fearing nothing.” 

The girl stretched herself out upon the prison 
couch, without any sense of doubt or fear, and 
soon the sorrows of that long and weary day were 
lost to her in calm and healthful slumber. But 
the young man sat motionless, his elbow upon the 
table, his head upon his hand, and his sore 
heart overburdened with sleepless thoughts. He 
thought of Dorcas, and all that he had ever heard, 


122 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


and all that he had personally observed concerning 
the mysterious Christian Association to which she 
belonged, passed with the tide of conflicting emo- 
tions through his restless heart. What was he to 
think of this Christian community? There was a 
hopeless and irreconcilable antagonism between 
what he had heard of the Christians and what he 
had seen for himself. It was necessary to reject 
one or the other view of the hated sect; the differ- 
ence between the two accounts of them could never 
be harmonized; there was no possibility of holding 
to the possible verity of both views. He knew that 
for centuries the Imperial Edicts — the very high- 
est and most authoritative form of Roman law — 
issued for the suppression of Christianity, assumed 
the facts to be that it was a secret association of 
the depraved, vile and criminal — inhuman and 
pestilent, atheistic, licentious and cruel. He knew 
that even the grave, erudite, and laconic Tacitus, 
Rome’s greatest historian, had described the Chris- 
tians in terms of calmest unmitigated scorn and 
loathing, and had not censured the terrible cruel- 
ties inflicted upon them, even by Nero, whom he 
hated. He knew that the popular sentiment of 
Rome, and, in fact, of the Empire, held the Chris- 
tians in utter abhorrence, and commonly attributed 
to them as rites and ceremonies of their religion 
— crimes so utterly abominable, that pagan re- 
ligion refused the promise of pardon to the per- 


A FAIR CONTRACT FOR A PAGAN 123 

petrators of such loathsome atrocities upon any 
terms whatever, and pagan philosophy did not pre- 
tend to know or seek for any expiation for such 
guilt. But, personally, he knew that many of 
those who had been subjected to torture because 
of this religion, were firm, unyielding, meek, quiet, 
patient and forgiving; praying even for their 
judges and executioners. He knew that only in 
rare instances had any crime been charged against 
them, except the crime of being Christians, and in 
no instance had such crime been proved. The 
only pure, chaste, educated girls he had ever met 
with were both Christians, neither of them ascetics 
— both full of human kindliness and sympathy — 
but both as fixed and changeless as the everlasting 
hills in their devotion to this terrible superstition, 
and in their adherence to that manner of life which 
seemed in some way to be the natural and logical 
outcome of their faith. One view must be true 
to the exclusion of the others ; there was no neutral 
ground between them upon which they could both 
stand together. If judged by what Roman law, 
and history, and opinions declared to be the truth 
concerning them, no association on earth had ever 
been so hopelessly, desperately and determinedly 
wicked. Judged only by what he personally 
knew, no society was ever so pure, exalted, self- 
sacrificing and perfect. He could not decide for 
himself how the truth was; and hour after hour 


124 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


he pondered the subject without reaching any 
satisfactory conclusion, fearing that even the 
outward appearance of temperance, veracity, 
meekness and constancy which had so powerfully 
impressed him upon many occasions, might be — 
as it was commonly said to be — only a mask be- 
hind which Christianity concealed from the out- 
raged and insulted world an atheistic, beastly and 
abominable wickedness. And so, while the young 
girl slept calmly and peacefully, the Roman’s heart 
was like the troubled sea that cannot rest; and so 
the night passed slowly away, until the slant rays 
of the rising sun struck on the narrow dungeon 
window. Then Phoebe awoke, and her friendly 
salutation being returned by the centurion, he 
rapped upon the door with his sword-hilt, and the 
sentry came and opened it. 

“ Say thou nothing to any one,” Marcellus told 
her, “ but quietly follow me.” 

And quickly they passed through to the outer 
door of the prison, and there met with Lucanius, 
and father and daughter joyfully embraced each 
other, and so they departed from that cruel place. 
And the centurion passed them by, saying to the 
girl, in low, emphatic tones: “Keep thou thy 
promises faithfully.” 

To whom she answered, without pausing on her 
way: “Yea, Roman! Doubt not thou at all! ” 

And as they went slowly on their way to their 


A FAIR CONTRACT FOR A PAGAN 125 


pleasant home beyond the Tiber, the young girl 
noticed that her father’s hand was wrapped up in 
linen cloths; and she said unto him: “Father, 
what hath hurt thy hand?” and her heart grew 
sick within her as she waited for his answer: 
“ The Lord hath tried me, daughter, but not be- 
yond what I was able, for His sake, to bear. In 
fact, when they had crushed my fingers in the cruel 
engines, it seemed to me that all at once I did 
receive great strength from Him that helpeth ; and 
I do believe that no tortures could ever have been 
sufficient to force me to deny the faith. Not only 
is one strengthened of the Lord, but I think also 
that suffering, to some extent, defeats the purposes 
for which it is inflicted, and that there is a point 
beyond which it ceases to be torture.” 

“ I glory at thy constancy ! ” she answered. 
“ The Master hath dealt most kindly with me. 
The young Roman whom thou didst hear warning 
me to keep a promise which I made to him, seeketh 
to find Dorcas, the Daughter of Faustina, and I 
did promise to bring news of her to him. He 
loved her with a strong, controlling passion; and, 
I think, will see that no injury shall henceforth be- 
fall us by the Roman law; and he hath been good 
to me and kind.” 


CHAPTER X 


“ HE THAT SEEKETH FINDETH ” 

A LTHOUGH Marcellus derived some hope 
^ and consolation from the apparent sincerity 
with which Phoebe had promised to aid him in 
learning the whereabouts of Dorcas, and in com- 
municating with her, he did not relax his efforts 
to discover some possible path by which she had 
been accustomed to pass from the Appian Way, 
in the vicinity of the ruined villa, unto that un- 
known place to which he was satisfied she had gone 
on every Seventh day during the period in which 
she had been resident at the villa of Varus. So 
deeprooted and inveterate was the distrust and 
hatred with which the Romans of his rank re- 
garded Christianity, and all those who professed 
it, that while he had resolved to trust the promise 
of Phoebe, he found it really impossible to give 
more than a painful and unsatisfactory half-con- 
fidence to her, and in this uncertain state of mind, 
being compelled to wait at least until the afternoon 
of the next Seventh day before he would certainly 
know whether she intended to deal sincerely with 
him, he could not rest supinely in the interval, but 
126 


HE THAT SEEKETH FINDETH 


127 


found it necessary to keep up his almost daily visits 
to the ruined villa, and his unavailing search for 
the path Dorcas had been accustomed to follow 
in that vicinity. 

Accordingly, on the following Sunday morning, 
long before the sun had risen, Marcellus hastened 
along the Appian Way toward the desolated villa 
— a vicinity that for more than a month he had 
haunted like some restless ghost. While he was 
wandering in that dreary waste, rendered almost 
oblivious to his surroundings by the one consum- 
ing sorrow and yearning of his heart, his attention 
was caught by the form of an old woman, tramp- 
ing slowly and painfully through the tangled 
thicket, in which there was no visible path. He 
vacantly wondered what she could be doing there 
at such an early hour, and noticed that she did not 
seem to wander aimlessly about in the vagabond 
fashion that had become so familiar to his own 
experience, but pursued her slow and difficult way, 
as if she knew where she was going, and as if she 
had some definite end in view. The young man 
kept his eyes upon her, followed her cautiously, 
and gradually drew nearer to her until she was 
seventy-five yards distant from him, when suddenly 
she disappeared, he could not imagine how or 
whither. “ Gone like a witch ! ” he said to him- 
self; but he could clearly distinguish the very spot 
on which she was standing when she had vanished; 


128 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


and, keeping his eye fixed upon that spot, and 
moved by an almost powerless hope, he cautiously, 
but swiftly stepped forward, and found only what 
seemed to be a sheet of plaster on the hillside, that 
looked as if it might once have formed part of a 
cistern or cellar long since destroyed. That was 
all. But when he came immediately to this frag- 
ment of a ruined wall he perceived that the next 
step to the left would lead, not as he supposed, 
into the thicket that spread around on every side, 
but through a narrow opening, half-hidden by 
brambles and underbrush, into the side of the hill. 
It was dark as midnight, and he knew neither the 
depth nor direction of the cavern, but with that 
fine capacity for instantaneous decision and action, 
which is one of the surest results of thorough mil- 
itary training, he stepped lightly and quickly into 
that subterranean darkness. But, in a moment, he 
stood still with surprise. A narrow line of artifi- 
cial light caught his eye, and, gazing intently, he 
saw that, a few feet away from him, the old 
woman whom he had seen outside, held in her 
hand a diminutive lamp, and that by its feeble 
flame she was endeavoring to light the wick of an- 
other lamp of ordinary size. And as soon as her 
trembling hands enabled her to do so, she hid away 
the smaller lamp, and bearing the other in her 
hand proceeded on her way. The light gave suffi- 
cient illumination to reveal to Marcellus the fact 


HE THAT SEEKETH FINDETH 


129 


that she was going through a long gallery cut out 
of the rock, of the length of which he could not 
conjecture; but instantly he determined to follow 
the woman cautiously wherever she might go, and 
see what would come of it. 

The old woman pursued her way along the 
smooth floor of the gallery with greater alacrity, 
and the young centurion followed her cautiously 
through every bend and winding of the path. He 
soon became satisfied that she was too deaf to 
hear his footsteps, and that the only danger he 
incurred of being discovered by her lay in the 
probability that she might suddenly turn around 
and see him; and there seemed no probability of 
this occurrence, because, having the light in her 
hand, she would be looking away from it and into 
the darkness. He therefore followed close upon 
her heels, determined not to lose sight of her 
again. She went on a great distance, and sud- 
denly she paused a moment where another gallery 
opened into that in which she walked. Then 
came a voice that cried in loud, distinct tones: 
“ Walk thou by faith? ” and the woman answered 
with the words : “ In His name,” and entered 

into the new gallery. No one was anywhere 
visible, nor could Marcellus determine whence 
came this singular challenge; for he understood at 
once that it was a challenge as much as the pass- 
word of a Roman encampment. But as he bore 


i 3 o DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


no lamp, and followed the old woman so closely, 
he rightly supposed that the invisible sentry would 
take it for granted that she was his guide through 
the labyrinth, and so kept on his way without paus- 
ing, and was not challenged. Whenever she came 
to a new gallery into which she desired to go, the 
woman paused, and the same challenge was given : 
“Walk thou by faith?” and the same answer 
given, “In His name;” and at last she entered 
the same chapel in the rock into which we have 
already followed Dorcas. 

The room was filled with men, women and chil- 
dren, and was fairly lighted by a multitude of 
lamps set in niches cut into the wall on every side. 
Marcellus paused before he had reached the en- 
trance, and squeezed himself close against the 
more shaded side of the gallery, and contemplated 
the strange and quiet scene before him. 

On the larger table lay a thing, covered over 
with a long cloak, the outlines of which resembled 
those of the human form. On the smaller table 
was a snowy linen cloth that concealed something, 
the shape of which the young centurion could not 
divine; but his glance fell upon it almost suspi- 
ciously, because he understood at once that he had 
come upon one of those secret chapels in which 
the hated Christians were wont to meet in order 
to celebrate the fearful rites of their abominable 


“ HE THAT SEEKETH FINDETH ” 131 

and inhuman superstition. He knew well that it 
had long been reported, and generally believed, at 
Rome, “ that the Christians, as the most wicked of 
human kind, practiced, in their dark recesses, 
every abomination that a depraved fancy could 
suggest, and solicited the favor of their unknown 
God by the sacrifice of every moral virtue.” He 
knew “ that many who pretended to confess, or 
to relate the ceremonies of this abhorred society, 
had asserted that human sacrifices were among the 
least of the horrible barbarities practiced among 
the mystic symbols of initiation; that proselytes 
were unknowingly led to inflict many a secret and 
mortal wound on the innocent victim of their er- 
rors; that as soon as the cruel deeds were per- 
petrated, the sectaries drank the blood, and 
pledged themselves to eternal secrecy by a mutual 
consciousness of guilt.” It was as confidently af- 
firmed that this inhuman sacrifice was succeeded by 
a suitable entertainment, marked by orgies to 
which those of profligate Rome were innocent in 
comparison. 

He had never really believed all of the atro- 
cious calumnies commonly circulated concerning 
the Christians, and since he had known that a be- 
ing so chaste and refined as Dorcas belonged to 
the sect, he had come to believe that nearly all of 
these malicious reports were false; yet he felt a 


132 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


thrill of horrible curiosity in looking upon that 
snowy cloth, so carefully disposed, which concealed 
from view he knew not what. 

The young man gazed eagerly over the assem- 
bly — perhaps four hundred in number — seeking 
to discover whether Dorcas was present, but as 
the gallery in which he stood was on the west side 
of the chapel, while all the congregation faced the 
east, he could not tell whether she was among 
those over whom his range of vision extended or 
not. He determined, at any hazard, to remain 
quiet, and await such developments as might occur, 
knowing, at any rate, that he would have the op- 
portunity to see and hear for himself just what the 
Christians do and say in one of those secret assem- 
blies which inspired the ordinary Roman with 
loathing and with horror; and what he saw and 
heard was as follows: A man of about forty- 
eight, possibly fifty, years of age, tall, erect, 
swarthy, handsome, of a grave and dignified de- 
meanor, stepped upon the low platform at the east 
side of the chapel, and, facing the audience, raised 
his right hand up, and immediately every one of 
the assembly quietly rose, and, with uplifted hand, 
in solemn tones followed the presbyter, saying: 
“ I believe in God the Father Almighty, and in 
Jesus Christ His only Son, our Lord; who was 
conceived of the Holy Ghost; born of the Virgin 
Mary; suffered under Pontius Pilate; crucified, 


HE THAT SEEKETH FINDETH 


133 


dead, and buried! On the third day He rose 
from the dead, ascended into heaven; and sitteth 
on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; 
whence He shall come to judge the quick and the 
dead. I believe in the Holy Ghost; in the com- 
mon Church; in the communion of Believers; the 
forgiveness of Sins; the resurrection of the Dead; 
and the life everlasting. Amen! ” 

Marcellus heard this profession of faith with 
profound interest and astonishment. Because the 
Christians refused to worship any of the gods of 
Rome, the general belief among the pagans was 
that they were atheists, who had no God at all; but 
having listened to their own solemn declaration 
that they believed in God the Father, and in Christ 
His Son, it occurred to him that if the Holy Ghost 
were a Divine Being also, they could not be athe- 
ists, but had faith in these three Gods at least; 
and he gazed carefully around to see whether the 
chapel contained any idol, eikon, or image, to rep- 
resent these Deities ; but there was none whatever. 

Then the whole audience united in singing to a 
sweet and solemn melody the following words : 

“ Lord, as the lamp-light guides our feet 
Thro’ all this dark but dear retreat, 

So let Thy true light mark the road 
That leads our willing hearts to God, 

And blessedness, and peace! 


134 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“As here, so far beneath the ground, 

But for our lamps a gloom profound, 

Would darken all with fear and doubt ; 

So would our hearts be dark without 
The light of love and faith. 

“ But for our lamps fierce beasts would come 
And make this safe retreat their home; 

So would fierce lusts and passions rise 
To vex our spirits with their lies — 

But for the light of faith and love. 

“ Lord, as Thy people here abide 
Hidden from earthly hate and pride; 

So may Thy Spirit teach each heart 
To live a holy life apart, 

Hidden with Christ in God ! ” 

Marcellus heard the sweet voice of Dorcas, 
dwelling lovingly upon the words of that chaste 
and simple song, and began to think that it was 
only the ignorance of vindictive hatred that could 
associate the idea of crime or impurity with a wor- 
ship so free from any exhibition of passion or 
pride. But there were yet greater surprises await- 
ing him. 

The presbyter kneeled down, saying: “ Let us 
pray,” the whole assembly repeating the prayer 
with him : 

“ Our Father, which art in Heaven; hallowed 
be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be 


HE THAT SEEKETH FINDETH ” 135 


done on earth as in Heaven; give us daily bread 
sufficient for our daily use; and forgive us our 
debts as we also forgive our debtors ; and may we 
not be led into trial; but deliver us from trouble; 
for Thine is the kingdom and the power, and the 
doctrine, forever. Amen.” 

And then the presbyter alone said: “Al- 
mighty God, who hast given us grace at this time, 
with one accord, to make our common supplica- 
tions unto Thee; and dost promise that when two 
or three are gathered together in Thy name, Thou 
wilt grant their requests ; fulfill now, O Lord, the 
desire and petitions of Thy servants, as may be 
most expedient for them ; granting us in this world 
knowledge of Thy truth, and in the world to come, 
life everlasting.” 

And the people said: “ Amen! ” 

Then the presbyter alone continued in prayer, 
saying: “ Most gracious God, in whose hands 
are the destinies of all nations, and of every man, 
we humbly beseech Thee to bless Thy servant, 
Maxentius, the Emperor of Rome, and all others 
in authority; open his eyes to Thy truth, that he 
may escape Thy righteous judgment by due re- 
pentance; that he may cease to vex Thy people; 
and so order his government that peace and happi- 
ness, truth and justice, religion and piety, may be 
established among us for all generations; and that 
we, Thy servants, being hurt by no persecutions, 


i 3 6 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


may evermore give thanks unto Thee in Thy holy 
Church, through Jesus Christ, our Lord.” 

And all the people answered “ Amen.” 

And the presbyter, stretching forth his hands 
over the people, said: “The grace of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellow- 
ship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all evermore. 
Amen I ” 

Then said the centurion to himself: “They 
even invoke the blessing of their God upon the 
Emperor Maxentius, who persecuted them to the 
death.” 

Then the presbyter said: “Ye that do truly 
and earnestly repent of all sins, and are in love 
and charity with all your neighbors, and are lead- 
ing holy lives, following the commandments of 
God, and walking in His holy ways, draw near 
with faith, and take this Holy Sacrament to your 
comfort, giving most humble and hearty thanks to 
God the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, for the re- 
demption of the world by the death and passion 
of our Saviour Christ, who did humble Himself 
even to the death upon the cross, that He might 
make us the children of God, and exalt us unto 
everlasting life, enabling us, even in this present 
world, to put our whole trust and confidence in His 
divine mercy, and to serve Him in holiness and 
pureness of living, the fruits of which are love, 


HE THAT SEEKETH FINDETH 


137 


joy, and peace, and the end of which is life eter- 
nal.” 

Then, as many as could do so kneeled round the 
table, and the presbyter, removing that linen cloth 
which had excited the curiosity of Marcellus, un- 
covered a flagon of wine, a small cup, and a plate 
full of unleavened bread. Thereof he gave each 
one to eat, saying : “ The body of our Lord Jesus 

Christ, which He gave for you, preserve your soul 
and body unto everlasting life.” 

Likewise, taking the cup of wine, he gave unto 
each of them, saying: “ The blood of our Lord 
Jesus Christ which He shed for you, preserve your 
souls and bodies unto everlasting life.” 

And, when they had partaken, he said: 
11 Arise ye, and go in peace, and the peace of God 
be with you.” 

Then the whole assembly rose and united in 
chanting the following words : “ Glory be to 

God on high, and peace on earth amongst good 
men. We praise Thee! we bless Thee! we wor- 
ship Thee! we give thanks unto Thee, O Lord 
God and everlasting King ! ” 

Then the presbyter stepped to the longer table 
and removed the cloak, uncovering the corpse of 
a man. Then the presbyter, resuming his place 
upon the platform, spake as follows: “ Beloved, 
ye know that our Lord Jesus Christ unstopped the 


i 3 8 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


ears of the deaf, restored sight to the blind, raised 
the dead, and did many other wonderful works, 
in order than men might believe. Ye know that 
Christ committed thaumaturgical power to His 
Apostles, and, through them, unto the common 
church, which power hath been continuously ex- 
ercised unto this day, whereof all ye are witnesses. 
Ye know, also, that by far the greater part of 
those Christians who, from the beginning, have 
suffered martyrdom, did rejoice to be counted 
worthy so to suffer for the faith of Christ, and 
refused to accept deliverance, and did not desire 
the Anastasis. But this man, whom ye all know, 
having been condemned on yesterday to die be- 
cause he followed Jesus, did earnestly desire the 
Anastasis for the sake of his motherless children 
and for the sake of the work which he might yet 
accomplish for the Lord, and sent, by certain of 
the brethren, to beseech the church that ye would 
pray God to raise him from the dead. Therefore, 
I desire ye all once more to unite in prayer, in faith 
doubting nothing, that, if it be the will of God, 
our brother Charis may abide with us yet longer 
for the accomplishment of the holy purposes which 
he had in his heart when the pagans slew him.” 

And the presbyter kneeled down, and all the 
people with him, and the presbyter said: “Al- 
mighty God, Father of all mercies, that by Thy 
Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ, didst create all 


HE THAT SEEKETH FINDETH 


139 


worlds, and all their natural laws, by which the 
order and harmony of the universe subsisteth, to 
whom all things are possible, we, Thy faithful 
servants, beseech Thee, if it be in accordance with 
Thy holy will, to recall this our brother back to 
earthly life, for Thine own glory, and for the sake 
of Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” 

And all the people said “ Amen ! ” and the pres- 
byter came up to the longer table, and to the corpse 
thereon, and took it by the hands, saying: 
“ Brother, if it be the will of God concerning thee, 
in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord, arise and 
live.” 

And the man got up, first into a sitting posture 
upon the table, and thence upon his feet on the 
floor, saying: “ Praise the Lord, O my soul, that 
hath granted our desire, and hath renewed my 
life.” 

And the people praised God with him. And 
then he inquired for his children, and, having found 
them, he greeted them affectionately and went on 
rejoicing. 

The Roman rubbed his eyes, to assure himself 
that he was not in a dream, but the Christians took 
the fact as if it were to them a pleasant but not 
uncommon event. 


CHAPTER XI 


IN WHICH PHCEBE REDEEMETH HER PROMISE 

TX7HEN Lucanius and Phoebe reached their 
** home beyond the Tiber, after the young 
girl had been released from the prison, many of 
the Christians who had heard the fact that they 
had been seized and carried into the city assembled 
to give expression to sympathy for their sufferings, 
rejoicings for their happy escape, and reverence 
for Lucanius, who was thenceforth numbered 
among the “ Confessors,” as they were called, 
who, because of their devotion to Christianity, had 
endured torture, but had escaped martyrdom. 
Among these friends was Doscius, presbyter of the 
community of which both father and daughter 
were members, who warmly commended the quiet 
faithfulness evinced by Lucanius in the trial which 
he had undergone. 

Phoebe said unto Doscius : “ Knowest thou 

where the Presbyter Epaphras may be found? or 
knowest thou the way unto his chapel? ” 

And Doscius answered: “Yea; his chapel is 
in the catacombs, upon the other side of Rome, a 
long distance out on the Appian Way.” 

“ I desire much to obtain speech of Dorcas, the 
140 


PHCEBE REDEEMETH HER PROMISE 141 

daughter of Faustina, who is ward to Epaphras, 
if thou canst direct me to his chapel.” 

“ If thou wilt go beyond the Tomb of the 
Scipios, along the Appian Way, not far beyond, 
thou wilt find a vineyard and a cottage built of 
sun-dried bricks, upon the left hand of the high- 
way. There dwelleth an ancient man whose name 
is Gregorius, and if thou wilt tell him that thou art 
a Christian, he will guide thee unto the chapel of 
Epaphras.” 

On the afternoon of Saturday, Phoebe, accom- 
panied by her father, crossed the Tiber at the 
Bridge of Fabricus, and passing by the Temples 
of Fortune and Vesta, the Circus Maximus and 
the Tarpeian Rock, entered upon the Appian Way, 
which they followed through the valley that winds 
along the base of Mount Aventine and Celinus, 
to a point some distance beyond that indicated by 
Doscius, and soon found the cottage he had de- 
scribed, and the aged Gregorius, to whom, by cer- 
tain signs usual among them, they made themselves 
known as Christians ; and Gregorius cheerfully un- 
dertook to guide them to the chapel of Epaphras. 
Lucanius thereupon returned to his own home, 
and Phoebe followed the ancient a long distance, 
and, finally, by one of the many secret entrances 
to the catacombs, descended into the mysterious 
recesses, where Gregorius soon found and lighted 
two small lamps, one of which he gave to Phoebe; 


142 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


and they thereupon took their way through the 
long subterranean galleries. After several turns 
and windings had been passed, they heard the voice 
of an unseen sentinel crying out: “Walk ye by 
faith? ” to which Gregorius at once replied: “ In 
His name!” Then pausing, the old man said: 
“ This maiden is a Christian who seeketh Dorcas, 
the daughter of Faustina. Knowest thou where 
she may be found? ” 

“ I know not,” said the sentinel, “ but the women 
who have charge of our chapel can tell you.” 

“How shall the maiden reach their abode?” 
said Gregorius. 

“ Let her follow this gallery, and take every one 
that openeth into it from the left. At the fourth 
opening she will find guides.” 

“Art thou afraid to go alone?” asked Grego- 
rius. 

“ Nay; ” replied Phoebe, “ for there can be none 
but Christians in the catacombs.” 

“ Then fare thee well, daughter,” said the an- 
cient. 

“ Many thanks for thy kindness,” said Phoebe, 
“ and farewell.” 

And then, bearing her little lamp carefully, the 
young girl proceeded upon her solitary way. It 
was a strange sort of confidence, indeed. Far un- 
derground, in more than midnight darkness, fenced 
in upon either side by long lines of the nameless 


PHOEBE REDEEMETH HER PROMISE 


143 


and countless dead who slept in that vast necrop- 
olis — alone, bearing a flickering lamp that 
lighted the gloomy path only a few feet in ad- 
vance, the young girl quietly went on without the 
sense of fear, because she knew that there were 
none but Christians in that dreary labyrinth - — a 
glorious commentary upon the character of the 
faith which she professed. 

Phoebe went forward, taking every left hand 
opening in the way, until she had entered three of 
them, and as she drew nigh the fourth, a broad 
glare of light shone across her path, and looking 
before her she saw that in one direction the gal- 
lery seemed to expand to greater width, and along 
one side thereof there ran a clear, small stream 
of water, as if some affluent spring discharged 
itself upon the rocky way; and not far ahead of 
her a fire burned brightly, over which a huge cop- 
per kettle was boiling, and several women were 
busy thereat, some of them washing clothes, and 
some of them cooking in various vessels at the 
fire. A young and beautiful girl was ironing out 
the last of a little heap of linen napkins, and upon 
the table at which she worked was a plate bearing 
a cross made of thin layers of unleavened bread. 
The stronger light all about them prevented them 
from observing Phoebe and her little lamp until 
she had come quite close unto them. The young 
girl was the first to note her coming, and looking 


i 4 4 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


up she said quietly: “Walk thou by faith?” 

“ In His name,” answered Phoebe, promptly. 
Then all of the women saluted her, and the young 
girl said: “Thou art welcome, sister.” 

Then Phoebe answered: “I am Phoebe, the 
daughter of Lucanius, a deacon of the community 
of Doscius, beyond the Tiber. I seek Dorcas, 
the daughter of Faustina. Canst thou tell me 
where she may be found? ” 

“ I am that Dorcas,” said the maiden. “ I have 
just finished the preparations for the service of to- 
morrow; come thou with me.” 

Then she laid the folded napkins upon her arm, 
and taking the plate of bread in her hand, she 
passed along through the gallery, and Phoebe, bear- 
ing her lamp, walked at her side. At a short dis- 
tance they came unto an opening of another gal- 
lery, over the entrance to which hung a curtain 
of heavy cloth, and passing this they entered a 
large hall, lighted by a huge lamp suspended from 
the rocky roof, and on either side of this hall were 
smaller chambers cut out of the rock, over the en- 
trance of each of which were similar curtains hang- 
ing. “ Here we abide,” said Dorcas. “ Mine 
apartment is at the end of this hall; let us go 
thither.” 

And when they had gone thither, Dorcas care- 
fully laid away the napkins and the bread in a 
wooden safe divided off by shelving, and placing a 


PHCEBE REDEEMETH HER PROMISE 145 

chair for Phoebe, invited her to be seated, saying: 
“ Our evening’s meal will soon be ready. Thou 
canst rest thyself now, and ere long sup with us.” 

And Phoebe said: “ I pray thee, sister, stand 
thou there where the house-light will fall upon 
thee. I desire to see thee clearly.” 

And gazing upon the maiden with a singular 
expression of countenance, she continued: “Sis- 
ter, thou art wondrous fair; it is not strange he 
loveth thee so much.” 

“ Of whom speakest thou? ” 

“ Surely thou canst guess.” 

“ But I will not do so, sister. Of whom dost 
thou speak?” 

“ Of the young centurion, Marcellus.” 

A pang of intense feeling nipped at the young 
girl’s heart, but the lifelong habit of self-control 
hardly permitted a trace of it to appear in her face 
or voice, as she quietly answered : “ Knowest 

thou the Roman, sister? Dost thou come from 
him ? ” 

“ Yea, verily; and I come hither only to tell thee 
truly all that I know of him, and the reason of my 
seeking thee.” 

Then Dorcas seated herself beside Phoebe, and, 
taking her hand, said: 

“ Sister, I am ready to listen to thee. But is 
the young man well? Doth he seem to be happy? 
When didst thou see him last? ” 


146 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“ Three days ago,” answered Phoebe. “ He is 
not ill, but is apparently in sore trouble because 
of thy disappearance from his father’s house. But 
I must tell thee all that hath happened.” And 
then, beginning with the arrest of her father and 
herself, she rapidly, but clearly, narrated every 
incident thereof, and of her brief acquaintance 
with Marcellus. Her truth, directness, and sen- 
sibility would be, perhaps, impossible to a chaste 
maiden of a later age in the world’s history, for 
good-breeding — good form, as fashionable cant 
calleth it — hath been largely substituted for gen- 
uine modesty, and our linen-cambric phylacteries 
of “ refinement ” have taken the place of that 
plain, unpretentious holiness of heart and of life 
which neither knew nor cherished any unchaste 
purpose or desire. 

Before Phoebe’s narration was ended, the two 
girls were friends, and more than once during her 
recital they sat sobbing in each other’s arms, and, 
having given every incident, Phoebe continued: 
“ And so, sister, if thou desirest to see the cen- 
turion again, I am to arrange a time and place for 
the interview. If thou desirest to write anything 
unto him, I will bear thy letter. If thou wouldst 
send any message unto him, I will deliver it for 
thee. If thou dost refuse to hold any communi- 
cation with him, I will so inform him. What wilt 
thou do, Dorcas? ” 


PHCEBE REDEEMETH HER PROMISE 147 

Dorcas did not immediately reply, but seemed 
to be buried in very serious thought. At last she 
said: “ I will even consider the matter carefully, 
for I know not what I ought to do. First thou 
must sup with us, and afterward we can converse 
yet more. Come thou with me, sister.” 

And passing out into an adjoining hall they 
found the other women already assembled, and 
having been affectionately welcomed by them — 
all of them — they sat down to their simple but 
healthful repast; one of the oldest of the women 
having first given thanks to God for the peace and 
comfort in which His providence permitted them 
to live. 

And afterward the two girls went together a 
short distance through the catacombs into the 
chapel of Epaphras, and sat there together dis- 
cussing their affairs; and a strong friendship grew 
between them. For, both of them being Chris- 
tians, there was no possibility of the intervention 
of those “ roots of bitterness ” that spring up to 
trouble even the purest hearts, under systems which 
create false social and class distinctions, based upon 
those ideas of superiority that grow out of idola- 
tries of birth, rank, interest, property, and other 
extraneous circumstances, that have as little to 
do with the character of an individual as the metal 
of which a dog’s collar is made has to do with the 
nature of the brute; and, because they both were 


1 48 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


Christians, each of them attributed to the other 
the same simplicity, unselfishness and truth, the 
same purity of life and of heart, the same desire 
to understand and to do that which is right, which 
she knew to be the guiding purpose of her own 
heart and conduct. Hence, the confidence which 
they mutually reposed in each other was of a 
stronger, truer, purer growth than more recent 
civilization can produce or comprehend; because 
the difference between the girls of that period con- 
sisted in the fact that some of them were Chris- 
tians and some were not. Those who were so, 
met upon terms of equality; those who were not, 
were separated from each other by the infinite 
cobwebisms of false distinctions which prevailed 
throughout all heathenism, and were, for the most 
part, natural enemies, each envying, suspecting, 
and hating the other; each striving to defeat and 
mortify the other; each seeking some advantage 
and precedence of the other — all of them born to 
an inheritance of social lies and shams, and false 
pretenses, about which they quarreled and schemed, 
only in a smaller more miserable way, than did 
the men under the influence of the same wild-beast 
civilization. But these two girls being both Chris- 
tians, and finding between themselves a similarity 
in age and sentiments as to all that nature creates, 
or grace contributes, to the adornment of char- 
acter, loved and trusted each other from the first; 


PHCEBE REDEEMETH HER PROMISE 149 

although the hands and face of Phoebe showed 
plainly the traces of her farm-life labor, while 
those of Dorcas, who had been reared in the dark- 
ness of the catacombs, with lighter tasks to do, were 
delicate as finest waxwork. 

“ It is best, I think,” said Dorcas, continuing 
their pleasant, confidential talk, “ that I do not see 
him again, nor write to him, nor send him any mes- 
sage, except a single line in order to verify the 
statement that thou hast seen me as thou didst 
promise him.” 

“ I am not wise enough to advise thee,” an- 
swered Phoebe. “ But wouldst thou, in any case, 
be the wife of a Roman? ” 

“ I know not. But I would not marry any man 
that is not a Christian, no matter what might be 
his nativity or rank, nor how highly I might es- 
teem him.” 

“ But dost thou remember that Paul saith the 
unbelieving husband may be sanctified by a Chris- 
tian wife ? ” 

“ Yea,” said Dorcas; “but it seemeth to me 
that in that place he speaketh of two who are al- 
ready husband and wife, of whom one shall be- 
come a Christian, and not of those who are unmar- 
ried.” 

“ But dost thou not believe that his great love 
for thee would lead him to adopt thy faith? ” 

“ That might even be,” she said. “ But I have 


150 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


been taught that it would be wrong to marry one 
who is not a Christian; and that one may not 
do evil that good may come of it.” 

“ But thou lovest the Roman — canst thou be 
happy if thou shalt see his face no more? ” 

“ Perhaps not happy,” answered Dorcas, sadly; 
“ but to be free is better than to be happy, and I 
shall be free; but they who sacrifice the truth are 
never free; they are the slaves of that for which 
they have given up the truth.” 

“ Thou speakest of the liberty of the gospel? ” 
“ Surely,” replied Dorcas, “ for the slavery of 
the body is an evil of smaller consequence. The 
only real bondage is the slavery of the soul.” 

“ He saith he cannot live without thee,” said 
Phoebe, “ and his appearance indicates that he 
speaketh truly. Thou knowest that the common 
refuge of the heathen from any sorrow which 
maketh them weary of the world is suicide.” 

The young girl shuddered as her companion 
spoke these words, knowing the fearful readiness 
with which the pagans sought for that refuge from 
any disappointment, but she murmured: “It is 
easy for any one to find excuses or justification 
for that course which agreeth well with his own 
wishes; but thou knowest that the question for us 
is never what might please us best, but is the 
straight and narrow way of present right and duty. 


PHOEBE REDEEMETH HER PROMISE 15 1 

I think that any one who earnestly desireth to do 
so, may find the way.” 

“ Shall I tell Marcellus that if he were a Chris- 
tian thou wouldst be his wife? ” 

“ Nay,” answered Dorcas. “ To be a Chris- 
tian would be for him to suffer worldly sacrifices 
that none but Jesus hath the right to demand of 
any human being — sacrifices which I would not 
dare to accept if he should offer to make them. 
Even to profess the faith and adopt the forms 
thereof would involve the loss of his social posi- 
tion and political importance, his property and in- 
fluence — and, perhaps, his life also — a sacrifice 
too great to be made for anything less than the 
love of Christ and the sure promise of eternal life, 
which alone outweigh all earthly consideration. 
It is better that we never meet again.” 

“ But he would leave thee unobstructed in the 
exercise of thy religion, and his influence might 
serve to protect many Christians besides.” 

“ But if he remain a heathen, scarce a day could 
pass us by in which I must not yield to the idola- 
tries in which he hath been reared, or else find 
myself separated in heart from him in all the cere- 
monies of religion and in all the incidents of home. 
Such a union is no Christian marriage. It is but 
the legal copartnership of paganism. The diffi- 
culties in the way of marriage between a Christian 


152 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


and an idolater seem to me to be irreconcilable 
and insuperable.” 

“ And canst thou not find any neutral ground 
between them, on which both might stand secure ? ” 

“ Surely there can be none. Honor, wealth, 
rank, power, war, slavery, marriages of conven- 
ience or of interest — all the aims and purposes of 
life which he hath been trained up to regard as 
best and highest — seem criminal and sinful things 
to me. Useful labor, or employments which he 
esteems to be fit only for slaves, I know to be a 
holy duty from which there is no escaping without 
sin. 

“ The faith on which I rest my soul is unto 
him an impracticable and insane delusion. Thou 
knowest that in Rome not only all that labor with 
their hands, but all that follow any useful pur- 
suit — their barbers, tailors, bakers, mechanics, 
teachers; all, except soldiers, priests and lawyers 

— are slaves or worse than slaves. A million of 
people, who are even less esteemed than the other 
million, who live upon the public granaries and do 
nothing — voluntary paupers who care for nothing 
except daily bread and the games of the circus 

— pattern et circenses y as their own poet saith. 
Only those employments which are useless or per- 
nicious to mankind are deemed to be respectable, 
and all other work is left to slaves or foreigners. 
We, sister, have been taught to despise all men 


PHGEBE REDEEMETH HER PROMISE 153 

that do not add something useful to the common 
stock. The differences between Christianity and 
heathenism go down to the very roots of life, and 
there can be neither happiness nor peace in any 
attempt at uniting them together. I must, there- 
fore, write unto Marcellus that thou hast come 
to me according to thy promise, and that I can 
give no answer except that which I have already 
given; this shalt thou take to him and nothing 
more.” 

“ Art thou certain,” said Phoebe, “ that thou 
dost really love this man ? ” 

“ Yea,” answered Dorcas, “ and with all my 
heart. But I love not his idolatry, nor his mode 
of life. Nor do I think that any heathen could 
understand the only love which we could value, 
or could dare to trust. For their love, even, it 
seemeth to me, is like their religion; like their po- 
litical and military glory; like their magnificent 
highways and aqueducts; like their splendid cities 
and costly tombs — a physical thing only. They 
know the worth of a sane mind in a sound body 
— the intellectual and sensuous sides of existence — 
but they have no spiritual life, or, if any, it is mute 
and ignorant, incapable of discerning and loving 
other spirits, incapable of expressing itself. In 
some respects, even this most excellent Marcellus 
exciteth my pity. He seemeth to be, in some 
things, lower than an infant — almost on a level 


154 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


with the brutes — as I think all men would be but 
for the faith of Christ.” 

“ How, then, is it that thou lovest him? ” 

“ That, indeed, I cannot tell thee,” said Dorcas, 
“ nor can I understand it. He is a very hand- 
some youth; but there must be some handsomer. 
He is bright and strong; but there must be some 
more excellent. He is brave, and true, and tender ; 
yet there must be some that are at least his equal 
in all this. In his spiritual life he is but a child; 
and yet there must be, even of his age, some full- 
grown, glorious Christian men. And yet, in my 
heart, I love him far more than I could love any 
man on earth. All my heart goes out to him 
alone, and I could live or die alike to bring him 
happiness, and for him would think naught too 
great a sacrifice, except the faith of Jesus. Ah, 
Phoebe, it is so strange, so sad, so sweet, so pitiful ! 
I know not how it is that of all men on earth, I do 
love only him.” 

“ I have met no Roman of high rank but him,” 
said Phoebe; “those whom I have known among 
the working people seem to belong unto a different 
race of men.” 

“ The higher classes of them,” said Dorcas, 
“ are little better than intellectual brutes, and the 
lower classes are brutes of lower intelligence. But 
Christians, even those who cannot read nor write, 
are gentle, refined, attractive.” 


PHOEBE REDEEMETH HER PROMISE 


155 


“ What causeth this vast difference?” 

“ I have heard the learned Epaphras declare 
that this condition of things is the necessary result 
of all human governments over a people. He 
saith often that governments which recognize war, 
slavery, private property rights, rank, title, pre- 
rogatives, never did, and never can, do anything 
better for mankind than to produce a ruling class 
at the top, to whom all the advantages of civiliza- 
tion accrue, and an oppressed or enslaved people 
at the bottom, upon which fall all the burdens of 
the world, and some form of ecclesiasticism be- 
tween these two extremes, seeking to adjust mutual 
rights and duties by arms and religion. He saith 
that the gospel of our Lord alone can ever give 
liberty to the great multitudes of men, and that 
even the persecuted Christians are the only people 
that ever taste the sweetness of real personal free- 
dom; and that the Church will make all people 
free, by abolishing the laws which enslave and de- 
grade them. He said that our Lord, although he 
addressed the Scribes and Pharisees only, really 
meant every ruling class on earth, when he de- 
nounced those who bind heavy burdens for other 
men’s shoulders which they themselves would not 
touch with a little finger; and that the ruling 
classes, no matter by what name designated, will 
always so bind the poor, until the masses of man- 
kind shall become Christians, and by the power 


156 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


of faith abolish war, slavery, and Mammon wor- 
ship, which are instruments of tyranny.” 

“ I know not how that may be,” said Phoebe. 
“ We came hither from the Bridge of Fabricus, 
and along the Appian Way, through the most 
densely populated portion of Rome, and there was 
a mighty contrast, truly, between the palaces of 
the great and wealthy and the vast multitude that 
scarcely live by labor, and the yet greater multitude 
of Romans that are too proud to work and afraid 
to steal, and content to live in idleness, drawing 
their support from the public granaries. I know 
not the causes of it, but it seems to me to be a 
fearful and a shameful thing.” 

“ This cruel and infamous state of Rome, 
Epaphras declareth to be the condition of all great 
cities, and that i* is everywhere the net result of 
the science of government, and that there can 
never be any permanent escape therefrom, except 
on the basis of our common church. Thinkest 
thou, Phoebe, that a woman that is a Christian 
could conscientiously be the wife of any man whose 
highest perception of life and duty is to preserve, 
enforce, and work out unto its legitimate results, 
such a system as this ? Surely it must be true that 
the less a Roman noble and a Christian girl see of 
each other the better for the peace of both. But 
it groweth late. Thou must abide with me until 


PHCEBE REDEEMETH HER PROMISE 157 


after services to-morrow, and as much longer as 
thou canst. Come with me.” 

And, so they returned unto the great hall, and 
rejoined the other women, and after simple but 
earnest religious services, they sought their sleep- 
ing-rooms, which opened from the hall on every 
side. For, although there was no difference be- 
tween day and night in their subterranean home, 
they divided the hours between the duties incum- 
bent upon them, just as those did who lived above 
ground — so many to sleep, so many to toil, so 
many to religion, so many to reading and conver- 
sation — and their hidden life was peaceful and 
pleasant enough, and on the next day, which was 
Sunday, they went together to the services at which 
Marcellus was to be so strangely present. 


CHAPTER XII 


IN WHICH THE GOSPEL IS STATED AS IT WAS IN 
A. D. 312 

A FTER Epaphras had blessed them, as re- 
*** lated at the close of the Christian services 
in the subterranean chapel, the congregation began 
to take up their lamps, and to depart by the various 
galleries that led into the chapel, and the centurion 
was resolved not to go thence until he had seen 
and spoken to Dorcas; but he did not desire to be 
discovered in the act of listening to the strange 
and awful scenes which he had just witnessed. 
There was no time, however, for deliberation, and 
with that celerity of action and decision which is 
part of the military education and character, he 
took the hilt of his sword in both hands, and draw- 
ing up his toga, so as to conceal both his face and 
the weapon, he dropped upon his knees, with his 
face to the wall, his head bowed upon his hands, 
so that by glancing sideways he could still see Dor- 
cas sitting in the chapel, and the young girl, Phoebe, 
sitting beside her; wherefore the centurion knew 
that she had been faithful to her contract with 
him. Although his own accidental discovery of 
158 


THE GOSPEL IS STATED 


159 


the chapel forestalled the visit which she had prom- 
ised to make to him upon the evening of that same 
day, he was not the less pleased by, and grateful 
for, this proof of her fidelity. 

Quietly the congregation dispersed, many of 
them passing through the gallery in which he 
kneeled; but to them the sight of a man upon his 
knees anywhere near those sacred precincts was an 
every-day occurrence, and no one accosted, or even 
seemed to notice him. Soon he saw the presbyter 
go over to where Dorcas sat, and take a seat be- 
side her, and he rightly judged that all the rest 
had gone, and that the presbyter was that Epa- 
phras of whom he had heard Dorcas speak. The 
centurion gazed upon the young girl’s perfect face 
with profoundest love and admiration, and it 
seemed to him that he lived again, after long weeks 
of care and apathy like death. Then he arose, 
and advancing quickly to the threshold of the 
chapel, he saw that both Dorcas and the presbyter 
observed his approach, and then he darted for- 
ward, and, raising the maiden’s hand, he bowed, 
and kissed it passionately, exclaiming: “ O, dar- 
ling, I have found thee at last, thank all the gods 
at once! Why didst thou so cruelly leave me, 
Dorcas? Every day have I sought thee sorrow- 
ing, and every hour I pined to see thy face, until 
the great grief of thine absence is wearying out 
my heart, and wasting all my strength! But I 


160 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


have found thee at last, and thou shalt pass out 
of my sight no more unless thou promise I shall 
see thee again, or unless thou leave this dreary 
place and go back to my father’s house with me.” 

At the first pause in the impulsive torrent of his 
speech, the girl arose, with quiet dignity, and said : 
“ Centurion, this is the presbyter, Epaphras, my 
guardian and friend. And this, father, is that cen- 
turion, Marcellus, of whom I have told thee.” 

Recalled to himself by her grave and quiet de- 
meanor, the centurion saluted Epaphras respect- 
fully, and said: “ Thou must pardon my want of 
courtesy, for I have suffered so long, and was so 
rejoiced to find Dorcas again that I could think of 
naught else.” 

And turning unto Phoebe, the young man said 
kindly: “ I rejoice to see thee, Phoebe, knowing 
well that thy presence here is a proof of thy truth 
and faithfulness. And I beg of thee to believe 
that I do entertain for thee all the respect and 
friendship which is due to girls who can be kind 
and faithful, and that cannot soil their lips with 
any false promise.” 

And Phoebe took the hand which Marcellus ex- 
tended to her, and answered: “ Truly, I came to 
Dorcas as I had promised thee, centurion; and she 
did agree to write unto thee a letter, which I was 
to have carried to thee, but thy coming unex- 
pectedly hath marred our little plans. So that 


THE GOSPEL IS STATED 161 

thou and Dorcas must take the quarrel into your 
own hands, and leave me out of it. I bid you 
both good-by, and shall even pray often for the 
happiness of both.” And, nothwithstanding that 
they pressed her to remain, Phoebe lighted her lit- 
tle lamp and quietly departed. Epaphras asked 
him to be seated, and then said: “ Where be thy 
companions? or didst thou come alone?” 

“ I am entirely alone,” replied Marcellus, “ or 
rather I followed close behind an aged woman, 
who unknowingly showed me the way.” 

The presbyter seemed much relieved by this 
information, and said: “Thou art very wel- 
come, and so are all that may come peaceably.” 

Then Dorcas, whose hand he held and would 
not relinquish, gazed on his haggard face with 
tender, gleaming eyes, and spoke to him, saying: 
“ Centurion, how didst thou find the way hither? ” 
Then he said: “Every moment since thou 
didst forsake us I have thought of thee only, and 
day by day I sought to find thee. From the in- 
formation I did gather from many different 
sources, I thought the path which thou didst fol- 
low must be through that thicket in which, after 
weary days of watching, I finally discovered the 
entrance to this place by dogging the footsteps 
of an aged woman who came that way this morn- 
ing. Dorcas, if I had found thee not I would 
have died ! ” 


162 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“ Wert thou, then, in sight and hearing of the 
religious services of this little band of Christians 
from the time at which she whom thou didst fol- 
low entered here?” inquired Epaphras. 

“Yea; I heard and saw all that occurred! ” 

“ And didst thou behold any of those infamous 
and unholy ceremonies which the Romans of thy 
class attribute to the secret assemblies of the Chris- 
tians? ” 

“ Nay,” replied Marcellus; “ I cannot imagine 
a form of divine service more simple, sweet and 
pure, or more acceptable to any holy God. But 
the last, the Anastasis ! That was a thing so very 
marvelous, so overwhelmingly grand and sublime 
in its simplicity, that my mind is stupefied by the 
event, and I can with difficulty credit my senses, 
which do assure me that I saw it! Was the man 
truly dead? ” 

“ Ask thy father, the Vice-Prefect Varus, 
whether on yesterday evening the head of the 
Christian Charis was not given to his friends in 
one basket and his body in another? ” 

“ It is an astounding fact,” said Marcellus. 
“ I cannot realize it. It transcends the power of 
magic.” 

“ Didst thou see any magic used, except the 
name of Jesus Christ? ” 

“ Nay, truly,” said Marcellus, “ I saw the 
Anastasis; but its very simplicity seems to demon- 


THE GOSPEL IS STATED 


163 

strate its impossibility. Do, then, Christians, in- 
deed, by faith in His name, suspend or annul 
natural laws at their own will? ” 

“ Nay, verily,” answered Epaphras, “ but God 
so made the world that faith in Christ is sufficient 
for the justification of a sinner, and so that the 
faith of the church, organized in accordance with 
His will and obeying His commandments, hath 
force to raise the dead, and to do many other 
marvelous works, and we Christians believe that, 
as the winds blow or the rain falleth by His will, 
so do these works occur. But didst thou witness 
aught in all our service that can justify the Roman 
law which persecuteth us even unto death?” 

“ Nothing,” cried Marcellus, “ and henceforth 
my efforts shall not be spared to put an end to 
punishments so unprovoked and so unjust. In- 
deed, I cannot understand how conduct so injuri- 
ous to a harmless people ever came to have the 
sanction of the Roman law? ” 

“ That I will even now explain to thee,” said 
Epaphras. “ Three hundred years ago, the Jews 
who were expecting the coming of Messias, son of 
the One True God, were so blinded by their own 
pride, and ambition and selfishness, that they sup- 
posed He would come in power and great glory 
to overthrow their enemies and make Jerusalem 
the chief city of the world; although their own 
prophets had foretold that He would come as a 


164 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; poor, 
despised and afflicted; and when He did so come, 
teaching the brotherhood of man, teaching that 
war was crime, and ought to cease, and that no 
Christian should bear arms in any cause; teach- 
ing that slavery is sin against our fellow-men, who 
are, indeed, our own brethren ; teaching com- 
munism of property and rights, as the only safe- 
guard of the many against the superior intelli- 
gence, selfishness, and rapacity of the few, who 
always plunder and oppress the multitudes; teach- 
ing that marriage is a holy sacrament, founded 
upon mutual affection and consent, and that di- 
vorce is sinful, and destructive of society; teaching, 
in a word, that His kingdom, instead of being 
only a greater tyrant and warrior than any other 
kingdom, as they desired, should, indeed, be a 
democracy, pure and simple, social and political, 
based upon faith and communism, in which the 
family should be the foundation, and the Church 
the superstructure, of society. The Scribes and 
Pharisees, who were the rich, official, respectable 
classes of the Jews, and covetous of property and 
rank, accused Him of sedition, and instigated the 
Romans to crucify Him; which they did, in the 
days of Pontius Pilate, in accordance with the 
declarations of the prophets. The Roman em- 
perors, from Tiberius until this very day, have 
persecuted the Christians for teaching and practi- 


THE GOSPEL IS STATED 165 

cing the gospel of Jesus. The brotherhood of all 
men, the denial of the right of the Christians to 
bear arms, the manumission of the slaves, the 
holding of all property in common, the abroga- 
tion of all social and political distinctions between 
men, and classes of men, that they may be one 
in Christ. The elevating of monogamic marriage 
into a sacrament, and the prohibition of divorce. 
These principles, based upon and enforced by 
faith, constitute the Christian democracy. These 
are the laws and the customs which the Christians 
keep as religion, and are those which the Romans 
have always condemned and punished, as ‘ a dire 
and malevolent superstition;’ as inspired ‘by 
hatred of the human race; ’ as ‘ contrary to reason 
and nature; ’ as ‘ extravagant laws and opinions; ’ 
as ‘ a criminal association.’ But thou canst see, 
centurion, that no man is compelled to enter into 
the kingdom of Heaven? It is, and must be, his 
own voluntary act. And thou seest that this faith 
is peaceable and pure.” 

“ Surely,” said Marcellus. “ But why do you 
not go into the forum, and into the Senate, and 
boldly proclaim this faith and demand recognition 
therefor at the hands of the emperor and the 
law? ” 

“ Ah,” said Epaphras, “ dost thou believe that 
they who constitute the ruling classes at Rome 
would permit the public preaching of the gospel 


1 66 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


of Christ, that teaches the fundamental truth that 
all men are, and of right ought to be, equal before 
God, consciousness and law? Or dost thou think 
that a rich man, except under the power of 
dominant, all-controlling faith, can overcome his 
selfishness, which is fortified behind the ramparts 
of civil and municipal law, so far as to seek ad- 
mission into the Church of Christ, which holds all 
property in common and requires as a condition of 
admission the transfer of the believer’s estate unto 
the common church? Or dost thou suppose that 
they who hold their fellow-men as slaves, and de- 
rive honor, consequence, convenience and wealth 
from this unjust ownership, would permit men to 
teach publicly as divine truth, and as the final ut- 
terance of law, philosophy and statesmanship, the 
gospel of Christ, which denies the master’s title, 
manumits the slave, and raises the chattel to 
equality with other men, making him ‘ no more as 
a slave, but as a brother beloved ’ ? Dost thou 
not see that if all Romans could be led to adopt 
this faith, the false and cruel social and political 
distinctions which are based on rank and wealth 
and power would fade out of the empire? Dost 
thou not see that if any man does in his heart be- 
lieve that the safety of his soul and the welfare of 
his fellow-men depend upon the acceptance of this 
faith, he will then bestow his property upon the 
common church and become the brother of all 


THE GOSPEL IS STATED 


167 


believers? And it is for that reason we Chris- 
tians pray, saying, ‘ Give us daily bread sufficient 
for daily use.’ We have no authority to pray for 
more, seeing that all that is over goeth into the 
common stock. Dost thou not perceive that if 
this gospel, which is ‘ good news ’ to the poor, 
could be publicly proclaimed, all the poor and all 
the slaves would take the kingdom of heaven by 
storm? Dost thou not see that the triumph of 
this gospel would abrogate the laws that maintain 
the idolatries of wealth, and rank, and property, 
and the power and influence of the robbers, usurers 
and extortioners who oppress the multitudes? 
Nay, verily, they crucified our Lord and have per- 
secuted the church from that day until now be- 
cause, and only because, they do not desire the 
common good, the general welfare, the public 
safety, prosperity and happiness of all, but prefer 
their own covetous desires for selfish aggrandize- 
ment, ease and power, to the regeneration of man- 
kind.” 

The presbyter’s sweet voice swelled into grand, 
sonorous utterances, and his face grew bright with 
holy earnestness and zeal as he proceeded with 
his exposition of the gospel. Dorcas sat quietly, 
while Marcellus listened, strongly moved and in- 
terested. 

“ But how knowest thou,” he said, “ that these 
teachings of thy Christ, these laws of His King- 


168 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


dom, are divinely true and right, and obligatory 
upon all men ? ” 

“ I know this,” answered Epaphras, “ as thou 
canst not yet know it. But thou mayest test their 
verity by one safe rule: ‘ Do unto others as thou 
wouldst have them do unto you.’ ” 

“ Let me understand that,” said Marcellus. 
“ If I would not wish to be degraded into slavery 
myself I must not own a slave ! If that rule were 
carried out in all things, truly it would cut very 
deep ! — and yet it seemeth right and just 
enough.” 

“ Yea,” said Epaphras, “ and if thou wilt seek 
with honest manliness and courage to measure all 
things — social, political and religious, both gov- 
ernments and men — by that one rule thou shalt 
grow in knowledge of the truth. But it is time 
that I, and Dorcas also, go hence to other duties 
that claim our attention. Centurion, thou seemest 
an honorable man, and I desire thee to be on thy 
guard lest some carelessness on thy part may make 
thy discovery of our place of meeting lead to vex- 
ation of my faithful church.” 

“ Thy warning is hardly necessary,” replied 
Marcellus, “ for I respect and esteem thee might- 
ily, and I would protect Dorcas to the death. In 
fact, I came hither only to seek her, and to bear 
her away or perish in attempting it; but I confess 
to thee that my mind is much changed in many 


THE GOSPEL IS STATED 


169 

things, and even in this resolve also. But Dorcas, 
my life, my darling,” he cried, with that look of 
tender, pleading love which she found it so hard 
to resist, “ I cannot leave thee, and I will not, un- 
less thou promise that I may see thee again and 
speedily.” 

Dorcas turned unto the presbyter, saying: 
“ Father, may he not come hither on next Sabbath 
morning? ” 

The presbyter sighed deeply enough, but an- 
swered: “ Come thou hither on the Seventh 
morning hence, centurion; but go thou now in 
peace? ” 

“ Verily,” replied Marcellus, “ it is not possible 
for me to find my way back whence I came. Let 
Dorcas guide me into that gallery which leadeth 
unto the entrance by which I came.” 

Epaphras seemed annoyed and perplexed at his 
request, but the girl turned to the centurion and 
laid her little hand lightly upon his arm, and gaz- 
ing into his eyes with eyes in which beamed the 
soft light of mighty love and trust, she said, most 
sweetly : “ Once thou didst make Dorcas flee 

away from thee in mortal terror; but now, cen- 
turion, is she not safe with thee?” 

And the young man’s eyes grew bright with 
tears of tenderness, as he replied: “ Yea, by my 
soul, as safe as if thy mother held thee in her 
arms ! ” 


170 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


Then the young girl took up her lamp, and 
gave Marcellus another, and placing her hand in 
his, she said: “Come on, centurion; I will be 
your guide.’* 

The proud Roman youth respectfully saluted 
Epaphras, then, hand in hand, the twain walked 
on through the vast solitude and darkness of the 
catacombs. 

“ Dear Dorcas,” he said, “ why dost thou leave 
me so? If thou wilt come back to me, thou needst 
not offer sacrifice to any god of Rome; but I will 
build thee a beautiful chapel, and Epaphras and 
thy friends shall worship in thine own way, under 
the protection of my father. Darling, wilt thou 
not come? I cannot live without thee! ” 

But Dorcas said, with profound tenderness : 
“ Let us not talk of that just now ! I do not think 
thou yet understandest what we Christian maidens 
mean by love ! ” 

And so they walked on, until they reached the 
gallery that led to the entrance by which the cen- 
turion had come. 

Pausing here, the young girl said: “I leave 
thee now. Thy way is in this gallery, and thou 
canst not stray from it. When thou comest where 
the light of day showeth across thy path, extin- 
guish thy lamp, and set it upon any projection of 
the rock which thou may’st find. When thou 
comest near the entrance, first look about thee care- 


THE GOSPEL IS STATED 


171 

fully, and go not forth if any one be in sight of 
thee. Be careful not to let fall any word that 
might lead us into trial. Come on the morning 
of the Seventh day, and I will meet thee, and con- 
duct thee to the chapel. Now bend down thy 
head to me,” and as he complied with her request, 
she laid her arm lightly round his neck and kissed 
him tenderly, then turned away, and went swiftly 
back. 

The young man sought not to detain her — did 
not call her back — but watched her lovingly as 
she glided swiftly away into the darkness, and a 
mighty joy came, wave-like, over his spirit, and 
he said to himself that the kiss which she had left 
upon his lips was the seal of a higher love and 
confidence than he had ever before dreamed of, 
and that he would prove worthy of the trust she 
had reposed in him. 

Then, resuming his journey, he went on to the 
entrance, happy with the faint but exquisite dawn 
of a happiness different from all that he had ever 
known before. 


CHAPTER XIII 


BIRDS, BEASTS AND ORACLES THAT PROPHESY 

TN the meantime, Maxentius, the Emperor of 
** Rome, having heard vague rumors of the pur- 
pose of Constantine, who was then in Gaul, to 
reclaim the empire by force of arms, determined 
to make every possible effort to wage a successful 
war, and to add Gaul and Germany to his own 
dominions rather than to surrender the sovereignty 
of Italy, and limit his imperial claims to Spain 
and western Africa. He was a thorough pagan 
in every thought, purpose and desire of his soul, 
and was consequently the dupe of the priests who 
administered the religion of Rome. First of all, 
being terribly afraid to engage in war with Con- 
stantine, and desiring to fortify his courage by 
such confidence as superstition could generate in 
the heart of a heathen emperor, he secretly con- 
sulted the haruspices, auguries and oracles, and 
having construed all of their divinations to be 
favorable to himself and his purpose, with good 
hopes he entered upon the work of preparation 
for the impending war with Constantine. But 
not only did he desire to be assured in his own 
172 


BIRDS, BEASTS AND ORACLES 


173 


mind that the gods were propitious unto him, he 
desired, also, to impress upon the whole Roman 
people the conviction that the immortals had 
solemnly pledged all heaven to give him the 
victory in the approaching contest. For this 
purpose he caused proclamation to be made 
throughout the city that upon a day appointed the 
Emperor would go in solemn state to the Temple 
of the Jupiter of the Capitol to consult the Pon- 
tifex Maximus, and have him publicly announce 
the divine will in regard to the issue of the war 
which seemed to all of them to be inevitable. It 
happened that the day named by Maxentius was 
the Wednesday after that Sabbath upon which 
Marcellus had discovered the retreat in which the 
maiden, Dorcas, abode, and had conversed with 
her and Epaphras, as hath been already narrated. 
The young man was dimly self-conscious that the 
idolatry of Rome was losing its life-long hold upon 
his intellect and conscience, but the process of dis- 
enchantment was so gradual and indefinite that he 
had no clear perception of it; and so when the 
Emperor and the great men of Rome, proconsuls, 
consuls, prefects, senators, aediles, all persons of 
patrician rank, all officers of the legions stationed 
in and near the city, “ and all Romans who were 
well-disposed toward the most holy Emperor 
Maxentius ” were solemnly warned to observe the 
day, and to participate in the sacred ceremonies 


174 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


by which the Emperor sought to learn the will of 
the gods concerning him, the young centurion, like 
the other young men of his own rank, joined the 
solemn procession that wended its way up to the 
Capitoline Hill, upon which stood the vast temple 
dedicated to the Jupiter of the Capitol. 

It was a grand, impressive, and beautiful 
pageant. The Emperor went first on horseback, 
accompanied by his favorites of the palace, all 
clad in magnificent and variegated costumes ap- 
propriate to their different official stations about 
the person of the Emperor. Then followed pro- 
consuls, consuls, aediles, and prefects on foot — a 
throng of splendid men distinguished by mighty 
deeds done for Imperial Rome in every quarter 
of the then known world. Then came the august 
senators in solemn black, the severe and classic 
lines of the senatorial toga agreeing well with their 
most grave and reverent demeanor. Then fol- 
lowed in dense array, and in all the panoply of 
war, the officials and men of the legions, bearing 
standards which in other days they had advanced 
to victory in the fierce storm of battle in almost 
every province of the empire. After these came a 
mighty procession of wealthy and influential citi- 
zens, representing every grade and occupation 
known in the most populous and busy city in the 
world; and the long procession ended with a vast 
and indistinguishable crowd of plebeians, all of 


BIRDS, BEASTS AND ORACLES 


i75 


whom, high and low, bore gifts unto the temple, 
each according to rank and station, to propitiate 
the gods. 

Long before the hour of noon the hill was 
covered by the restless human sea that rolled away 
on every side, and surged over into the adjacent 
streets and vacant lots. All the vast area of the 
temple — at one end of which Maxentius and his 
immediate attendants stood upon a slightly ele- 
vated platform, while at the other appeared the 
altar and the statue of the god, far above which 
was a covered balcony for the vestal virgins — 
was confusedly crowded by the highest dignitaries 
of the Roman state, both civil and military, and 
by as many of those whom their rank, or some 
special permission allowed to intermingle with 
them, as could find space on which to stand. 

The splendid altar glowed with various flames, 
and clouds of incense rose and filled the place 
while slowly drifting upward to the roof. Then 
from the lofty balcony on which they stood con- 
cealed by delicatest lattice work the vestal virgins 
chanted that lofty hymn which Callimachus, of 
Cyrene, composed in honor of the mighty Jove, 
and the sweet cadence of the mellifluous Greek 
verses wandered like angel voices all through the 
mighty temple. Then swinging the sacred censers 
with many graceful genuflections before the statue 
of the god, the Pontifex Maximus, clad in gor- 


176 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


geous robes, embroidered with laces and woven 
gold and precious stones, prayed unto Jove to be 
most favorable to the Emperor, to accept the of- 
ferings made by him and by all pious citizens of 
Rome, and to indicate by the flight of sacred birds 
and by the entrails of the sacred beasts, and by 
the oracles, that he would give victory to Maxen- 
tius. 

Afterward, the Pontifex Maximus took from 
the sacred cage the birds that prophesied, and 
placing them upon his wrists, released them at 
the open window in the rear of the altar, and he 
and the priests delegated for that office carefully 
noted their prophetic flight. The birds that had 
been well fed and long confined rose a short dis- 
tance in the air and then circled around the tem- 
ple on their unused and heavy pinions, and then, 
not caring to pursue their flight over the city to 
the distant fields and woods, soon sailed home and 
alighted upon the open window sill. Then the 
Pontifex Maximus took them and exhibited them 
unto Maxentius. Then he advanced to the edge 
of the raised platform on which the altar rested, 
and in a loud voice cried out: “Behold, the 
sacred birds have refused to leave the temple, and 
the holy, safe and prosperous city, but have come 
back. Thus the god promises to be propitious 
unto Rome.” 

Then the priests restored the birds to their 


BIRDS, BEASTS AND ORACLES 


177 


cages, and the assembled multitude burst into a 
shout of triumph: “ Glory to the most holy Em- 
peror Maxentius, to whom the god Jupiter is most 
favorable.” 

Close at hand, the priests, with their sharp, 
sacrificial knives, cut the throats of the beasts of 
sacrifice, and bore the reeking entrails, heart and 
livers, to the Pontifex Maximus, who diligently 
inspected them while the priests were burning at 
the altar such portions as were required to be 
burned in sacrifice. And again the Flamen of 
Jupiter advanced to the edge of the platform, and 
made proclamation that the augury was altogether 
favorable unto Rome. And once more a mighty 
shout of triumph pealed through the vast temple, 
and was taken up by those without and rolled 
down the slopes of the sacred hill, and spread 
throughout the waiting city. 

Then said the Emperor Maxentius in a loud 
voice unto the Pontifex Maximus: “ Thank thou 
the mighty god for me, and promise what thou 
wilt in my name unto the temple 1 But go now 
and consult the oracle ! ” 

Then the Pontifex Maximus passed out of sight 
unto another chamber to the right hand of the 
altar, and after some small delay, during which 
an indistinguishable murmur came out from that 
place, the Pontifex returned, and, advancing once 
more to the edge of the platform, in a loud voice 


178 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


answered: “ The oracle sendeth to the most holy 
Emperor Maxentius and to the people of Rome 
this message: Certum est Imperatorem Maxen- 
tium super esse Constantinum. And again the vast 
multitude gave forth a shout of triumph, saying: 
“ Glory to the most holy Emperor Maxentius, the 
conqueror of Constantine, to whom the oracle 
hath promised victory 1 ” 

Then, while the vestal virgins chanted, the Em- 
peror left the temple, with his immediate attend- 
ants. 

During the whole of these religious services, all 
of them were constantly engaged in conversation 
among themselves — talking of politics, of mat- 
ters of private business or pleasure, or any other 
subject of mutual interest — and only when the 
Pontifex Maximus might come to the edge of the 
platform to announce the results of his divinations 
did any one think it necessary to keep silence, or 
to pay any attention to the sacred rites; and so, 
when it happened that Marcellus perceived among 
those who had obtained permission to enter into 
the body of the temple the grave face of the 
presbyter Epaphras, he stepped up to him, and 
courteously saluted him, and entered into a con- 
versation with him — a rather unusual thing for 
any Roman of his rank to do with one of the 
despised sons of Israel. 

“ It is a grand ceremony, surely,” the centurion 


BIRDS, BEASTS AND ORACLES 


179 


said. “How does it affect thee, Epaphras? 
How doth it seem compared with thine own sim- 
ple worship ? ” 

And Epaphras answered: “Yonder Is the 
Flamen of Jupiter and his attendant priests, his 
oblations and altars, his aediles and vestal virgins. 
Yonder is the Emperor Maxentius and his cour- 
tiers. These two parties are evidently interested 
in the sacred rites. Here, in the body of the tem- 
ple, are the senators and chiefest men of Rome, 
who have, perhaps, a political interest in the result 
of the divinations. Outside, and all around, are 
thousands of citizens of the middle classes; and 
beyond these the vast and unconsidered multitude 
of plebeians. Wilt thou tell me, centurion, what 
part or interest these innumerable crowds can have 
in the grand service of this god? Except to bring 
unto the temple offerings whereby this splendid 
ritual may be maintained, and its costly observ- 
ance paid for, what have they to do with it? 
What to them is this ornate temple service ? 
How doth this religion in any wise affect their 
hearts and consciences, or how control and elevate 
their lives ? ” 

“ Truly,” answered Marcellus, “ they have 
nothing to do with it, except, as thou sayest, to 
bring their offerings to the temple, and await the 
proclamation of the Pontifex Maximus, or listen 
to the divinations by bird, and beast, and oracle. 


180 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


But what wouldst thou have, then ? It is not pos- 
sible for every man to be a priest, and offer sacri- 
fice, and interrogate the gods? ” 

“ Ah,” said Epaphras, “ I would have but one 
Priest, that lives for ever, and that hath offered 
up Himself to be the one true sacrifice for the sins 
of all mankind; and I would have every man a 
worshiper, having access by faith in this one 
Priest and sacrifice, unto God, the Father of us 
all. I would have each man make true religion 
a matter personal to himself, so that, knowing 
the Priest and Sacrifice to have been both perfect 
man and true divinity — sinless, loving, and di- 
vine — the heart and life of the sincere worshiper 
might be transformed and renewed into the image 
and similitude of that holy life which this Priest 
and Sacrifice Himself did live! Knowest thou of 
whom I speak, centurion?” 

“ Yea; I do know! ” said Marcellus; “ but thou 
seemest in one particular to err; for we Romans 
do have private and personal worship, each man 
for himself, at home, or at the temple, as each one 
may choose, to any god whom he may trust the 
most ! ” 

“ Verily,” said Epaphras, “ he may sacrifice 
unto the gods at home, and all of his worship is 
the offering and the prayer that it may be ac- 
cepted. He may go into the temple alone, and 
with his offering purchase the good-will of the 


BIRDS, BEASTS AND ORACLES 


181 


priest, but this worship, also, endeth with the gift, 
and the petition that it may be accepted. Ye thus 
seek to gain the divine aid for the accomplishment 
of personal ends, whether the thing for which ye 
pray be right or wrong; or else ye seek to ex- 
piate, pay for, some specific act of sin. Ye know 
nothing of sin, but only of sinful deeds, and the 
divine beauty and consolation of the idea of the 
forgiveness of sin is unknown to your religion. 
Hence thou knowest that in this personal religion 
of the Romans thou canst not find any one that 
prays for forgiveness of all sin and freedom from 
the dominion of it; but only seeking to expiate 
some vile, specific, sinful deed; thou wilt also find 
them beseeching some god to aid them in accom- 
plishing a sinful purpose. Thou wilt find the 
adulteress praying that her husband may remain 
undeceived, and that her paramour may be pros- 
perous and generous. Thou wilt find the Hakirae 
beseeching Venus for larger profits from their im- 
pure and loathsome trade. Thou wilt find the 
thief praying unto the Hermes Dolios for skill 
and gains in the commission of an intended 
larceny, and promising a portion of his plunder 
for the favor of the god; thou wilt find young 
maidens dedicating their girdles and bracelets to 
Athenis Aptera; thou wilt find youths praying to 
Hercules or Jupiter to hasten the death of some 
rich relative in order that they may acquire his 


1 8a DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


estate; and thou wilt find baser criminals invok- 
ing the gods to aid them in greater crimes; but 
not one anywhere that seeketh after personal holi- 
ness, or prays to be delivered from the desire to 
sin. Centurion, knowest thou that all of this is 
true? ” 

“Thou speakest truly,” replied Marcellus; 
“ but one thought which thou hast uttered seem- 
eth intangible to me. We know that a sinful act 
must be expiated; but thou seemest to draw a dis- 
tinction between sin and a sinful deed. How is 
that?” 

“ A sinful act,” said Epaphras, “ is an inten- 
tional transgression; sin is nonconformity to the 
will of God; ye Romans seek to expiate the act. 
Ye know nothing of the forgiveness of sin; the 
change of heart and mind by which the will is 
conformed to the will divine. But an evil tree 
yieldeth evil fruits ; a bitter fountain yieldeth bitter 
waters. The religion of Rome, and all others 
except His whose name we dare not mention in 
this place, seek to deal with sins which are the 
evil fruits, the bitter waters; but that one seeketh 
to make the tree good that the fruits may be good 
also; seeks to purify the fountain that its waters 
may be pure. For thou knowest, centurion, as 
every man must know, that if a man commit sin for 
which no expiation can be made, and the sorrow 
of the world taketh hold upon him, unless in his 


BIRDS, BEASTS AND ORACLES 183 


time of trial he shall have strength and courage 
to look away beyond all this ornate priest-craft 
and pageantry, and in some form cast himself 
upon the mercy of an unknown God, the religion 
of thy country giveth him no hope nor help at 
all. But this unknown God, whom all men igno- 
rantly do sometimes worship, is known to us that 
do believe, because He hath revealed Himself to 
us through that one Priest and sacrifice of whom 
we have been speaking. So that each individual 
man may, if he will, without any other sacrifice 
or priest whatever, by faith draw nigh unto God 
to the joy and consolation of his soul, finding true 
forgiveness even for sins that thy religion doth not 
pretend to expiate. 

“ Thou seest, therefore, that this religion is for 
every man; but the ornate and costly superstition 
of thy country is, for the most part, a business for 
the priests only, and for the Emperor; for the 
most part as much a department of the govern- 
ment, as much a political power, as are its military, 
police and mercantile laws and regulations. It is 
a human institution, dependent for its very ex- 
istence and maintenance upon human laws and 
governments, blended with them and their pur- 
poses and interests, participating in all their 
wrongs; and is, therefore, of necessity in itself 
thoroughly secular and dishonest, and incapable of 
regenerating the life of any man or nation.” 


184 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“ I think I comprehend thee mostly; but what 
dost thou mean by saying it is thoroughly secular 
and dishonest? ” 

“ I mean that every such system is bound by 
the very conditions of its existence to give its sanc- 
tion, in the name of God, to whatever the law of 
its domicile may prescribe, or else to cheat and 
juggle with false words and pretenses to hide its 
own repugnance, as thou hast seen done this very 
day.” 

“ In what respect? ” said Marcellus. 

“ Thou hast heard the Flamen of Jupiter de- 
clare that all the divinations were favorable unto 
Rome,” replied Epaphras; “ but that he was not 
asked about at all. He was asked whether the 
gods would give victory not to Rome but to 
Maxentius, and that he does not answer, because 
he does not know any more than thou dost. To 
this trick he had resorted because, if he answereth 
unfavorably to Maxentius, he dreads the imperial 
wrath; but, if he answer favorably, then he may 
soon have cause to tremble at the anger of Con- 
stantine, for the issue of the war is doubtful; he, 
therefore, saith 4 favorable unto Rome,’ in order 
not to be committed to either faction in the state, 
and leave room to translate his augury in accord- 
ance with the issue, however the matter may come 
to pass.” 

“ That is, indeed, a sharp criticism upon the 


BIRDS, BEASTS AND ORACLES 


185 


Pontifex Maximus,” answered Marcellus; “but 
art thou not mistaken? Did he not announce that 
the oracle had declared that Maxentius should 
overcome Constantine?” 

“ Wilt thou repeat the message of the oracle? ” 
said the presbyter. 

“ Yea,” replied the centurion; “ the very words 
were : Certum est Imperatorem Maxentium 
super esse Constantinum! ” 

“ And dost thou not perceive,” answered Epa- 
phras, smiling, “ that these words may just as well 
and as truly signify that ‘ Constantine will over- 
come Maxentius ’ as that ‘ Maxentius will over- 
come Constantine ’ ? The Flamen of Jupiter 
hath used your Latin accusative with the infini- 
tive verb to construct a sentence for the oracle 
having a perfect double meaning, so that no mat- 
ter how the event shall come to pass, he may 
boldly tell the people that the oracle foretold it.” 

“ The fraud is transparent; but how would the 
other religion have answered in such a case?” 
asked the centurion. “ Not at all. They who 
believe it teach that all war is illegal and criminal. 
They dare not bear arms on either side, nor pray 
for the success of either party to a crime. But 
they continually pray for peace.” 

“ I can hardly understand, even yet,” replied 
Marcellus, “ how a religion can be maintained 
without a government.” 


186 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“ Yet, if thou wilt consider the matter well,” 
said Epaphras, “ thou wilt surely find that wher- 
ever and whenever religion is blended with gov- 
ernment, it must necessarily be degraded into a 
mere ecclesiasticism, and so hopelessly incapable 
of taking one single step in advance of the laws 
in the enlightenment and regeneration of mankind. 
But the true religion, which hath for three cen- 
turies maintained itself, and hath spread abroad, 
even beyond the boundaries of the empire — in 
every quarter of the world — not only hath no 
government to support it, but hath been persecuted 
and outlawed by imperial Rome even from the 
beginning, and yet in spite of all opposing 
agencies, in secret, unheeded — almost unknown 
except to its own communities — it groweth con- 
tinually. Because it is not a kingdom of this 
world; hath no partnership with any earthly king- 
dom; dependeth upon none of them, and is a 
personal matter to each individual man and woman 
unto whom its messages may come. So that if 
thou cast a man alone on rocky Patmos, or if 
thou drive him forth into the Libyan deserts, be- 
yond all human companionship and aid; or if 
thou deprive him of hearing, sight, and speech, 
and chain him in the dungeon’s darkness and 
solitude, yet everywhere, in all times and places, 
he may, by faith* in our one Priest and Sacrifice, 
hold sweet communion with the God and Father 


BIRDS, BEASTS AND ORACLES 


187 


of all. And no mortal enginery on earth can 
deprive even the poorest and meanest of the disci- 
ples of the consolations of his faith, or prevent 
him from offering up acceptable worship to his 
God. It would gratify me much, centurion, to 
have thee examine, with equal care and candor, 
those salient points of difference between the re- 
ligion of Rome and all others on the one side, 
and that one of which we have been speaking; for 
I desire thy welfare.” 

But the services were ended, the Emperor was 
withdrawing from the temple, and Marcellus be- 
ing required to resume his station among his 
brother-officers, they two parted courteously, and 
each one went his way. 


CHAPTER XIV 


IN WHICH MARCELLUS DISCOVERETH A BAR- 
BARIAN 

TOURING all the week the young man seemed 
to himself to live upon the memory of his 
visit to the Christian chapel in the catacombs, and 
the new and wonderful experience which he had 
encountered there. He thought that he was hap- 
pier than he had ever been before, and his step 
once more grew elastic and his visage bright. 

The Vice-Prefect saw this joyous change, and 
imagined it to have resulted from the fact that the 
youth had thus quickly mastered the passion 
which seemed to have been consuming him, but 
made no inquiries — • satisfied to see that the cen- 
turion had resumed the cheerful discharge of duty, 
and had ceased to wander with aimless step and 
hopeless countenance along the Appian Way. 

This conversion to a physically normal and 
healthful condition was accompanied also by 
changes in his moral and mental constitution of 
which the youth was almost unconscious. His 
nature was softening under the influence of the 
higher and purer culture with which he had come 
1 88 


MARCELLUS MAKES DISCOVERY 189 


into brief and pleasant contact. Even the fash- 
ionable brutalities and sensualisms of Rome were 
growing distasteful to him. The lascivious ex- 
hibition of the theater seemed to him in some 
undefined, intangible way to be degrading not 
only to the shameless actresses who trod the stage, 
but to all true womanhood; and the cruel and 
murderous scenes of the Coliseum no longer 
elicited his admiration nor extorted his applause. 
The splendid barbarian was becoming refined by 
association with loving charity, which even yet he 
knew not how to appreciate at its true value, and 
with living truth, that he had only seen in evanes- 
cent gleams and “ as through a glass darkly.” 

He knew nothing of the division of time by 
Sabbaths, a custom common to both Jews and 
Christians, but he counted the days until the 
seventh, and rejoiced like a child as the number 
grew less and less between him and the day of his 
promised meeting with Dorcas, and when the 
seventh day had come, very early in the morning, 
with quick, elastic steps and beaming eyes he 
strode once more along the Appian Way. 

The passionate, fierce desire to possess the ob- 
ject of his affections, which, indeed, was all that 
the sensual Romans knew of love, had almost 
faded out of his heart, and slowly but beautifully, 
as a rose unfolds in dew and starlight, a dim con- 
sciousness was blooming in his spirit that the love 


190 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


which alone could be worthy of Dorcas was that 
affection which seeketh, first of all, the happiness 
of the one beloved. He could not have uttered 
this dawning perception in any form of words, 
but it elevated and refined him; and with a sense of 
sweeter and higher happiness, he hastened to the 
entrance of the catacombs. 

Dorcas was there awaiting him. The morning 
light toyed with her golden hair, the loving light 
caressed her glorious face and lissome form, and 
a light more pure and enchanting than the rising 
dawn slept in her azure eyes. She sprang for- 
ward to meet him, and extended both her little 
hands, which the centurion gently took in his own, 
and then stood looking down upon her glowing 
face with throbbing heart and beaming eyes, and 
softly said: “Wilt thou not kiss me, Dorcas?” 

“ Yea, gladly and lovingly,” she answered, with 
a happy smile. She was so happy. Only a 
month ago he would have seized her in his arms, 
even against her will, and would have crushed her 
rosebud mouth with cruel, sensual lips — she saw 
the mighty difference and rejoiced. He felt the 
mighty difference in his very soul, and the con- 
sciousness of it both humbled and exalted him. 

Then said he most tenderly: “ I have been a 
brute unto thee, Dorcas; thou must forgive me, 
darling, for I did not know ! ” and she answered 
to him: “ Surely thy fault is hardly personal to 


MARCELLUS MAKES DISCOVERY 191 


thee, Marcellus, seeing that it was but that of 
Roman civilization and of paganism ! ” Then 
with a sweet blush spreading over her exquisite 
face, in low, delicious, happy tones, she said: “ I 
love thee, Marcellus; I do love thee dearly! 
Thou hast large capacities for good in thy strong, 
pure heart and mind! ” 

Then it seemed to him as if scales had fallen 
from his eyes that he might all at once perceive 
how hard, selfish and sensuous was the life of the 
practical Romans, and what wide possibilities of 
purer, higher, nobler existence might be for him 
and other men. Rome herself was beginning to 
appear to him but as a barbarian compared with 
what might be, even as the tribes of Gaul and of 
Germania seemed barbarous when compared with 
Rome; except that the comparison between the 
barbarians and Rome referred to physical progress 
and intellectual life alone, while that to which 
Rome was like a barbarian was neither intellectual 
nor physical, yet what it was he did not clearly 
understand; but as to the crystalline chastity of 
that world of thought, emotion, purposes — in 
which both Dorcas and Epaphras dwelt — the 
centurion discovered himself to be but a bar- 
barian. 

Then once more, hand in hand, bearing their 
lighted lamps, the twain trod through the long 
galleries together, and once more, at every new 


192 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


passage which they reached and sought to enter, 
a voice of one unseen cried out: “Walk thou 
by faith!” and Dorcas sweetly answered: “In 
His name ! ” and so they went on until the lighted 
chapel opened in their path, wherein many had 
already assembled. And Dorcas said: “Wilt 
thou not enter in and sit with me? No one ob- 
jecteth here to any peaceful visitor, and thou wilt 
learn nothing that can injure thee.” 

Then passed he with her into the chapel and 
they sat together, and in low tones, that seemed 
most fitting to the place and the surroundings, 
talked they of many things. 

And while the congregation was assembling, 
the centurion observed that when they came in, 
one by one, or two by two, all adult persons, and 
some even of the children, stepped quietly into 
an alcove made in the side of one of the galleries, 
where was a table having a box on the top thereof 
and a lamp burning above it, and in a moment 
more returned and took their seats. “ Dorcas,” 
said he, “ what ceremony taketh them into that 
place? ” 

And she said: “We Christians make a weekly 
offering of whatever each may have above that 
which is necessary for himself and family, and 
this goeth into the common treasury, for the com- 
mon good, to be applied as our deacons, or 
stewards, may direct. They are making their of- 


MARCELLUS MAKES DISCOVERY 193 


ferings now. Therefore we pray : ‘ Give us our 

daily bread,’ which prayer would be but mockery 
of God if we should violate the law of Christ by 
‘ laying up treasures in our private storehouses for 
future use.’ We Christians live, as men of Rome 
would say, * from hand to mouth ; ’ but the com- 
mon church accumulates for all.” 

“ And if misfortune overtaketh any one,” said 
Marcellus, “ how doth he live, having given all 
that he had unto the church? ” 

“ All the church hath is his,” said Dorcas, “ ac- 
cording to his necessities. So that among us those 
who are given little lack nothing, and those to 
whom much is given have nothing over; but there 
is enough, and to spare, for all.” 

“ I have a few pieces with me,” said Marcellus; 
“ thinkest thou that they would take it kindly if 
I put them in the box? ” 

“ They solicit no one,” she answered, “ nor 
have they any right to reject the offering of any 
that is made with hope that it may accomplish 
good. But thou, centurion,” she added with a 
kindly smile, “ must not forget that, when thou 
casteth money into the treasury, thou art aiding 
the despised and persecuted cause of Christ.” 

For an instant the young man’s cheek burned 
with an angry flush, but it passed off as quickly 
as it came, and he quietly went forward and 
emptied his purse into the treasury, and then re- 


194 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


sumed his seat beside her, saying: “ I hope that 
even the pitiful sum I had with me may do some 
little good.” 

By this time all the congregation had assem- 
bled, and thereupon the presbyter Epaphras en- 
tered into the chapel, and seeing Marcellus there, 
he advanced and kindly greeted him; and having 
taken his station upon the platform, the congre- 
gation rose, and with right hand uplifted, re- 
peated in solemn tones the declaration of their 
faith. And the ceremonies proceeded as upon the 
preceding Sabbath, except that there was no An- 
astasis of the dead, and Epaphras occupied the 
time which had been consumed by that service 
upon the former occasion by a short address or 
“ sermon,” as Dorcas denominated it. 

The centurion listened to the first Christian ser- 
mon he had ever heard with a strange, absorbing 
interest. A world of light broke in upon his spirit 
when the presbyter said: “ Ye see, therefore, be- 
loved, that there never was, and never can be, a 
false religion in the world, inasmuch as all religion 
is in itself only the utterance of the heart’s death- 
less yearnings for the one true God, after whom 
the human race seeketh, and whom the heathen do 
ignorantly conceive to dwell in the bright stars 
above us, or in idols of wood and stone, which are 
the workmanship of their own hands. And this 
honest, universal, but mistaken effort of sin-blinded 


MARCELLUS MAKES DISCOVERY 195 


men to bestow a physical, tangible shape and ex- 
istence upon the one true God hath filled the world 
with idols — the false conceptions and human rep- 
resentations of Him that is invisible except unto 
the eye of faith; that is a spirit, and is only wor- 
shiped truly by those that worship Him in spirit 
and in truth; whom our Lord Jesus Christ hath 
revealed to them that love Him.” Because from 
the worship of the idolaters itself, and from the 
lessons of the Platonic philosophy then current in 
the city of Rome, it appeared to him with almost 
startling vividness that if the one God of the 
Christians be substituted for all others, and the 
Christ taken as the fulfillment of Plato’s splendid 
vision of the Divine Man that was to instruct men 
in the will of God and reconcile them to His ways, 
all that he had been taught to regard as religion 
would be wonderfully simplified, and this very 
simplicity itself seemed to demonstrate its truth. 
But the departing of the congregation broke the 
thread of his meditations, and soon all others had 
gone except Epaphras, Dorcas and himself. 


CHAPTER XV 


IN WHICH THERE IS SOME TALK OF MARRIAGE 
FTER the conclusion of the services in the 



chapel in the rock, Epaphras said to Mar- 
cellus: “I rejoice, centurion, to see thee among 
us here again, and hope that thou mayest learn 
to love our simple form of worship, and that thou 
wilt never find aught therein which should right- 
fully subject us to the malediction of good men 
or of righteous laws? ” 

“ If all Christians be such as thou and Dorcas,” 
said the centurion, “ I would gladly learn the faith 
which worketh out characters so perfect.” 

“Thou lovest the maiden, then?” said Epa- 
phras, striving in vain to conceal his agitation. 

“Yea,” answered Marcellus, taking the girl’s 
hand in his, “ I love her as I do mine own life, 
and more ! ” But Epaphras indicated to Dorcas 
that he wished to converse with the centurion 
alone, and so the maiden withdrew to the women’s 
apartments. 

“ And, notwithstanding,” said Epaphras, in 
slow, deliberate tones that seemed to place an 
emphasis on every word, “ thou didst offer unto 


196 


SOME TALK OF MARRIAGE 


197 


her not long ago the grossest insult that a Chris- 
tian maiden can receive.” The young centurion’s 
face became flushed and troubled. But at length 
he said: 

“ I have even told Dorcas that I was as a brute, 
or a barbarian, to her, and she knoweth well that 
it was the barbarism or brutality of ignorance. 
But to speak the very truth, even yet I do not un- 
derstand why my love for her was a thing so dif- 
ferent from what it ought to have been, and, if 
thou canst credit me, so different from what now 
it is ! ” 

“ Didst thou not know, then,” said Epaphras, 
“ that what thou calledst love without marriage is 
unpardonable sin and hopeless degradation to 
every Christian woman, and that marriage without 
love is in no respect a better or more honorable 
thing? ” 

The youth flushed vividly; but his brave, sin- 
cere nature asserted itself, and he answered by a 
simple, straightforward statement of the truth, 
saying : 

“ Verily, I did not. I call to witness all gods, 
both thine and mine, that I believed and know that 
nearly all the Roman youth, of both sexes, do be- 
lieve that such love as I did offer Dorcas is better 
far for her, or any other girl, than to assume the 
burdens and the bonds of matrimony, from which 
both men and women in Rome recoil with such 


ig8 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


strong loathing that we have enacted the Julian 
and Papinean laws, and other laws, to compel 
the unwilling citizens to contract marriages. O 
gladly would I take Dorcas to be my wife; but I 
did think that the arrangement I proposed to 
make was far better, both for her and me, than 
matrimony. And, while now I love the maiden 
otherwise, and feel, somehow, that the former 
arrangement is not a fit nor proper one for her, 
I tell thee, Epaphras, in perfect truth, that I can- 
not understand why this is so or how it happen- 
ed! ! ” 

“ That I will even tell thee,” answered the 
presbyter. “ It is because thou hast begun to 
realize the truth that ye Romans are not fit to be 
true husbands or true wives.” 

“ And why not? ” said Marcellus. “ There is 
no finer race of beings on the earth.” 

“ Because,” said the presbyter, “ the union of 
men and women, even on the basis of physical 
and intellectual excellencies alone, is but a com- 
merce of more gifted brutes, and is no real mar- 
riage, which is a higher and purer relation for 
which ye Romans are not fit, because 4 your 
lasciviousness and unchastity have been so notori- 
ous for centuries that when the emperor sought 
to reform manners by the Julian law your wives 
and mothers did not hesitate to escape the legal 
penalties of adultery by exchanging the decent 


SOME TALK OF MARRIAGE 


199 


stole of matronhood for the toga of the avowed 
courtesan, to whom the law did not apply/ Ye 
never knew what a true marriage is. ‘ Ye pub- 
licly boast that ye have renounced marriage, and 
public confidence in marriage and the family tie 
is shaken to its center; ’ and, ‘ on the other hand, 
the women themselves, insulted by the neglect of 
the other sex, and exasperated at the inferiority 
of their position, avenge themselves by holding 
the institution of legitimate marriage with almost 
equal aversion. They are indignant at the state 
of servitude to which it binds them, the state of 
legal dependence in which it keeps them; for it 
leaves them without rights, even without the en- 
joyment of their own property; it reduces them 
to the state of mere children, or rather transfers 
them from the power of their parent to that of 
their husbands. They continue through life, in 
spite of the mockery of respect with which your 
laws surround them, things rather than persons; 
things that can be sold, transferred backwards 
and forwards from one master to another for the 
sake of their dowry, or even for their powers of 
child-bearing.’ Ye degrade and despise your 
women so much that, long ago, the Censor Metel- 
lus, in your august senate, said: 4 Could we exist 
without wives at all, doubtless we should all rid 
ourselves of the plague they are to us ; since, how- 
ever, nature hath decreed that we cannot dispense 


200 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


with the affliction it is better to bear it manfully, 
and rather look to the permanent conservation of 
the state than to our own transient gratification ’ ; 
and Augustus, a hundred years afterwards, recited 
this invective in your senate, and ye had to resort 
to stringent laws to compel your citizens to marry. 
And ye despised women so thoroughly that the 
most of them were destroyed in infancy, and those 
who survived were not esteemed worthy to have 
a prenomen — left even nameless. And it re- 
sulted from this degradation of the sex that your 
women, uninstructed, ill-treated, half-employed, 
threw themselves with all the passionate self- 
abandonment of their weaker natures into the 
worship of Anubis and Astarte, and all the libid- 
inous sensualism of Egypt and of the East; and 
as ye became more and more degraded the men 
followed them until your whole social life-path 
became utterly infamous and unclean. So it hath 
been throughout the world; women are thoroughly 
despised, and the wife is everywhere a slave. But 
our Saviour Christ, that hath addressed His 
gospel to each individual and not to any sect or 
nation, and hath devolved upon each one for him- 
self a personal responsibility that implies, in the 
very definition of it, personal rights as well as 
duties — a responsibility which is necessarily and 
eternally antagonistic to all slavery — hath also 
emancipated the wife from the condition of a 


SOME TALK OF MARRIAGE 


201 


slave, and hath elevated her to the equal station 
of a companion, counselor and friend by ordain- 
ing monogamic marriage to be a sacrament of 
religion, based upon mutual affection and consent, 
and by prohibiting divorce. So thou must see, 
centurion, that the love of a Christian for his wife 
is quite another thing than the unlicensed passion 
of a Roman, and than the contract, founded upon 
interest and expediency, by which a wife is taken. 
Thou seest clearly that a Christian marriage sanc- 
tifies sexhood, elevates women, and renders the 
family tie a sacred and indissoluble one that forms 
the basis of society. And if thou wilt seriously 
consider all these things thou canst not fail to 
understand what a pure and holy thing is that 
which Dorcas calleth ‘ love/ nor of what manner 
of love he should be capable that deserveth to 
have her for his wife.” 

Then the centurion answered: “ I am a very 
young man, and have never had inclination or 
occasion to examine many of the matters of which 
thou speakest, and I feel rather than understand 
the meaning of thy words. But I perceive 
clearly that thou knowest how to lay thy heavy 
hand upon every sore place that afflicteth the 
Roman body politic. If any man doubt that the 
Romans themselves comprehend the vast evil of 
war, slavery, intemperance, usury, and luxury, a 
knowledge of the laws continually enacted, and re- 


202 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


enacted so ineffectually, would certainly remove 
his doubts. But while the Romans know and re- 
gret the terrible decadence of all public and social 
integrity and virtue, they know not any statute 
or custom that can arrest its downward progress; 
and so we live as we can under the laws and cus- 
toms which have grown upon us. Dost thou 
know any law, Epaphras, that might accomplish 
the various reformations contemplated by such 
enactments as the Julian law, the Oppian and 
Vaconian laws, and the law of Augustus?” 

“Nay, verily!” replied the presbyter; “no 
human statute can remedy these evils, or even 
reach the seat of the universal malady. The 
larger wisdom of our Saviour Christ is manifested 
by the fact that He did know it was a vainer thing 
than beating of the wind to enact any such laws 
— the most perfect code of which the Jews had 
tested for long centuries — and hence, the divine 
truth, by which He purposeth to accomplish the 
regeneration of mankind, never assumed the shape 
of a statute to govern Christians or Jews, Greeks 
or barbarians; was never confirmed by the inflic- 
tion of any temporal penalties, but is addressed 
to each individual man as man . He constantly 
saith ‘ every man,’ ‘ any man,’ ‘ whosoever will; ’ 
and His gospel is not addressed to any sect, 
corporation, government, or class — social or 
political — but to the individual; and no mortal 


SOME TALK OF MARRIAGE 


203 


enginery on earth can either compel the individual 
to do, or to leave undone, what is essential to his 
becoming a Christian. So, centurion, thou seest 
that while no man can reform and regenerate the 
Roman world, and is, therefore not responsible 
for that it is not done, any can, if he will, our 
Lord helping him, reform, regenerate, and purify 
his own heart and life, and he is held to be per- 
sonally accountable for his failure to do so. The 
Kingdom of Heaven, the Church of Christ, to- 
day, unseen and unknown, extends throughout 
the empire, and even further than the power of 
Rome hath ever gone; but the faith which jus- 
tifies the individual is personal and peculiar to 
each man, and is beyond the reach of any human 
statute. But it is the Sabbath day, and I, and 
also this young deaconess, Dorcas, have yet many 
duties to discharge, so that thou mayest go in 
p^ace, and come again upon the Seventh day 
hence, if such be thy desire.” 

Then the centurion and Epaphras saluted each 
other with great kindness, and Dorcas having been 
recalled, she and Marcellus took up each a lamp, 
and, hand in hand, they twain trod the long gal- 
leries once more until they reached that one which 
led on to the entrance by which the young man 
came. And as they walked on the centurion said : 
“What is the Sabbath, Dorcas?” 

And she answered: “It is the Seventh day 


204 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


upon which our Lord arose from the dead after 
that He had been crucified under Pontius Pilate; 
and every Sabbath we Christians celebrate His 
resurrection in the communion, as he commanded.” 

“ Arose from the dead after that he had been 
crucified! ” said Marcellus, amazedly. 

“Yea! Surely thou canst not think it an in- 
credible thing that God should raise Him from 
the dead, when thou hast seen with thine own eyes 
the Anastasis of our brother Charis?” 

“ That is most true,” said Marcellus. “ But, 
Dorcas, are there no books containing the history 
of these things? Epaphras talks to me most 
kindly and learnedly, but somewhat too much with 
reference to large questions of social and political 
truth. But I would fain know more of this same 
Jesus — more that is personal to Him; more of 
what He said, and did, and felt, and thought, and 
suffered! Are there such books, Dorcas, any- 
where? ” 

And a glad light glorified her speaking counte- 
nance as she replied: 

“ Yea, thou most dear Marcellus. I will ob- 
tain for thee by next Sabbath the four Gospels 
and the Acts of the Apostles, and thou mayest 
read the holy Scriptures for thyself.” 

“ And, Dorcas, what is it to be a deaconess, as 
Epaphras said thou art? ” 

“ It is to aid in caring for the chapel, and in the 


SOME TALK OF MARRIAGE 


205 


preparation of the bread and wine, and to dis- 
tribute to the women of our community out of the 
treasury, according as each hath need, either per- 
manently or by reason of some temporary neces- 
sity.” 

“And thy parents, Dorcas, where are they?” 
asked Marcellus. 

“ Both suffered martyrdom for the faith of 
Jesus when I was yet in infancy.” 

“ Ah ! I remember to have heard thee say they 
died when thou wast very young, but thou didst 
not say how. Both martyrs ! Dorcas, dost thou 
not hate Rome and the Emperor, and every 
Roman, for this cruel wrong? ” 

“Nay, nay, centurion! Hast thou not heard 
us pray for our enemies, and for the Emperor and 
all others in authority ! I pity and forgive them ! 
I doubt not that just men even have persecuted us 
in all good conscience, ignorantly, as did Saul of 
Tarsus, of whom thou mayest read in the beauti- 
ful parchments I shall get for thee.” 

“ It is most strange and moving,” cried Marcel- 
lus. “ Tacitus saith that the Christians are ‘ full 
of hatred for the human race.’ Yet I see that ye 
Christians hate no one, and even pray for those 
who persecute you ! ” 

They walked on in silence, the centurion almost 
oppressed with meditations upon the new and won- 
derful life that was slowly revealing itself to his 


206 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


astonished intellect, and upon the more wonderful 
changes that seemed to be in progress in the depths 
of his own nature; and the young girl watched 
him with patient love and hope. And when they 
had reached the gallery which she had already 
named “ Marcellus Way,” she lifted her glad face 
to his saying: “ Kiss me, love, and go in peace.” 

The youth saluted her with a respect and loving 
kindness that seemed to him new, strange and 
exquisite, and as he wended his way on to the 
upper world the fullness of his heart uttered its 
joy in low and loving words : “ There is none 

like her ! There is none ! There is no love like 
mine in all the world ! It is a new fire stolen from 
heaven most blessed, warm and pure, such as no 
Roman hath ever known before. It is not in the 
sweet verse of Sappho, and Hesiod’s perfect 
melodies know naught of it! Nor breathes it out 
of any music of Anacreon’s lyre! That which 
Ovid and Tibullus sing of love is but licentiousness 
compared with it, and compared with it the finest 
odes of Horace are unclean, dead and cold! For 
there is none like her in all the world — not one ! ” 


CHAPTER XVI 


IN WHICH EUSEBIUS OFFERETH THE SWADDLING- 
BANDS UNTO THE CHURCH 

A FTER that embassy which went out of 
^ Rome secretly to wait upon Constantine at 
Lutetia, and to solicit him to march into Italy and 
free them from the tyranny of Maxentius, had 
separated at the foot of the Alps, as hath already 
been narrated, those who were to return to the 
city did successfully perform their journey; and 
likewise those who were to return to Lutetia to 
communicate to Constantine those things which 
had been made known by Eusebius, arrived safely 
and speedily. And Constantine gladly received 
them, and having been fully advised of all that 
Eusebius had declared, he dismissed those deputies 
to Rome again with instructions to inform the 
patricians, senators and Christians who were 
moving in the matter, “ That never, either in 
Britain or in the West, under the government of 
his father nor under his own, had the Christians 
been persecuted; that on the contrary, both from 
the accounts of them which Pliny had given to 
Trajan, and from all that he had learned concern- 
207 


208 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


ing them from other sources, he had formed a 
very favorable opinion of the Christians, and had 
great regard for Jesus Christ, of whom, indeed, 
he had long desired to know more, but had 
hitherto been prevented by the constant pressure 
of public affairs; that if the Christians should be 
able and willing to give him any effectual aid in 
consolidating the empire, and in preventing the 
devastation of Italy by a protracted civil war, he 
would guarantee to them entire freedom in the 
public exercise of their religion; that an embassy 
from their bishops, or from the churches, would 
be granted safe conduct and kind usage if they 
desired to confer with him in regard to these 
things; and that he did not desire declamations, 
which might mean much or little, but accurate in- 
formation, whereby he would be enabled to judge 
for himself of their ability to render effective aid, 
and proper assurances of their willingness to do 
so.” 

And having dismissed them with this message, 
Constantine so effectually furthered them upon 
their journey that they, too, safely arrived at 
Rome only a few days after the return of those 
with whom Eusebius had come. And the mes- 
sage of the emperor having been communicated 
by those who brought it to the patricians and 
senators who were transacting the business, they 
met together secretly, and had Eusebius come to 


EUSEBIUS OFFERETH THE BANDS 209 


them, whom they informed fully, and commis- 
sioned to lay open the matter to the churches, and 
ascertain both the opinion of the Christians con- 
cerning it, and, also, the facts about which Con- 
stantine sought to be informed. And thereupon 
Melchiades, the Bishop at Rome, invited the 
presbyters in the city, and bishops and presbyters 
throughout all Italy, to assemble upon a day 
named at the chapel in the catacombs to consider 
of the things proposed. 

And at the appointed time they assembled se- 
cretly in the chapel of Epaphras to the number 
of about three hundred; and the Roman bishop 
having called the assembly to order, first of all 
stated to them clearly and perspicuously the busi- 
ness upon which they had been summoned, and 
afterward they united in prayer to God that His 
Spirit might so guide their deliberations that their 
action should be for the glory of God and for the 
good of the common church. And, therefore, the 
bishop said: 

“ If any one hath counsel to offer, let him 
speak.” 

Then many gave their opinions; many asked for 
further information; many suggested difficulties 
and objections; and little by little the business was 
explored to the bottom, and gradually the assem- 
bly became divided in sentiment upon the very core 
of the whole question into two parties, whereof 


2io DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


Eusebius led one party, and Epaphras, the presby- 
ter, led the other. 

“ It is agreed upon common consent,” said 
Eusebius, “ both from the character of the Em- 
peror Constantine and from the fact that no 
persecution of Christians hath been permitted by 
him, or by his father, that we may safely rely upon 
his pledge to protect the church upon the condi- 
tions stated. Ye know, brethren, that from the 
days in which our Lord tabernacled in flesh, even 
until this hour, the church hath been bleeding at 
every pore. Ten different times, under ten dif- 
ferent emperors, persecution hath taken the form 
of laws for the destruction of Christianity, and 
the followers of Jesus have been tried beyond all 
human endurance. The question, therefore, in 
brief, is simply whether the church shall give aid 
to Constantine for the recovery of his rightful 
heritage, in exchange for his imperial protection, 
and so be enabled to come forth into the broad 
light of day, and proclaim, without fear or mo- 
lestation, the gospel of our Lord I Or whether 
she shall contumaciously reject proffered peace 
and protection, and thereby justify the accusation 
of the pagans that we Christians are inspired with 
hatred of the human race, and, as a natural conse- 
quence, continue to suffer from the hatred and 
persecutions of the world, which have been so 
grievous ever since Diocletian issued the edicts for 


EUSEBIUS OFFERETH THE BANDS 21 1 


our destruction in the years 303 and 304, which 
hard laws the present Emperor Maxentius strictly 
enforceth everywhere ; so that neither at home, nor 
on the way, nor even here beneath the surface of 
the earth hath any Christian assurance of his life. 

“ When I think of how the church must triumph 
under the imperial protection — how in place of 
being outcast, persecuted and despised, she would 
at once become honorable and respectable in the 
eyes of the heathen; when I think of what vast 
opportunities for greater good the emperor’s favor 
will afford, it seemeth to me that it would be 
mere madness and fanaticism to reject these over- 
tures of peace and protection, and willfully cast 
aside the honor, wealth, power and glory which 
the long and sorely persecuted church must 
begin to gather as the fruits of the proposed 
alliance ! ” 

To him Epaphras thus replied: “ Brethren, I 
marvel greatly that any Christian bishop should 
even speak to you of earthly honor, wealth, power 
and glory; and marvel more that he should advise 
you to follow after all these things, for which, 
indeed, the heathen seek. Will some one tell me 
what business we Christians have with any 
‘honor’ except that of our Lord? With any 
‘ wealth ’ except the unsearchable riches of Christ ? 
With any ‘ power ’ except the power of the Holy 
Ghost ? With any ‘ glory ’ except to glory in the 


2i2 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


cross of Jesus Christ our Lord, by which we are 
crucified unto the world and the world unto us ? 

“ They propose an ‘ alliance ’ between the 
church, the bride of Jesus, and the Roman Empire. 
Let us consider what is involved in this proposed 
blending of light and darkness; this concord be- 
tween Belial and Christ. 

“ So far as spiritual truth is concerned, we must 
blend the faith of Christ with that of pagan Rome 
— a thing impossible for Christian men to do — 
or Constantine must subvert the whole vast ma- 
chinery of heathen law and religion, and I ask you 
to consider whether that is possible for him. 

“ So far as the sociology and politics of the 
kingdom of Heaven is concerned, either the 
church must abandon the gospel of Christ and be 
conformed unto the world, or else the Romans 
must subvert the empire before any such alliance 
can be possible! Unjust wars, prosecuted for 
gain and conquest through the four quarters of the 
world, are the chief glory of Rome, imbedded in 
her laws and customs, in her traditions and re- 
ligion. But ye all do know that our Lord Jesus 
Christ hath forbidden Christians to bear arms at 
all, and ye know that from the sorrowful night in 
which Peter smote the high-priest’s servant and 
cut off an ear, for which our Lord rebuked him, 
no Christian, and no body of Christians, hath ever 
lifted up a carnal weapon, even in self-defense. 


EUSEBIUS OFFERETH THE BANDS 213 


How can these antagonistic principles of action 
unite? Will the empire abolish war? or can the 
church consent to see her redeemed sons enrolled 
among the butchers and stabbers, paid and trained, 
to murder other men for whom also our Saviour 
died? 

“ Ye know also that the greater part of the peo- 
ple of the empire and of Italy, and of Rome 
especially, are slaves, and that the slave-code is 
rooted in the laws, customs, traditions, and re- 
ligion of the empire. But ye also know that Jesus 
teaches the inevitable personal responsibility of 
every man — a responsibility based as much upon 
rights for man as upon duties — a truth which is, 
logically and spiritually, the antithesis of that 
enslaved condition in which our Lord’s advent 
found the human race; ye know that under the 
power of the Holy Ghost slavery hath faded just 
in the ratio that the church hath triumphed, be- 
cause Jesus promised that the truth should make 
us free, and the liberty of the gospel is a charter 
of freedom to the slave. How can there be con- 
cord or alliance between this gospel and the 
Roman slave-code ? Dare ye to seal with the pre- 
cious blood of your crucified Redeemer a compact 
giving the sanction of His church to human slav- 
ery? Or think ye that the ruling classes of the 
empire will voluntarily abolish this inhuman 
wrong, and of their own accord surrender the 


214 DORCAS, DAUGHTER 07 FAUSTINA 


profit which they have by the ownership of men, 
and the convenience and consideration they derive 
therefrom ? 

“Ye know that the laws, customs and religion 
of the empire are founded upon the false and 
cruel, social and political distinctions which grow, 
like poison-weeds, out of accidents of rank, pre- 
rogative, and wealth ! These are the real gods 
of the idolators; these the rewards which Mam- 
mon offers to his votaries ! But ye also know that 
our Lord Jesus required all such distinctions to 
be abolished among all those who believe; that 
they may be brethren, that they may call no man 
master, since one is their master, even Christ, and, 
therefore, to hold all property by a communal 
title, and not by any individual right or claim. 
Ye know that when some, through want of faith, 
endeavored to gain admission into the church, and 
at the same time to evade the binding obligation 
of that fundamental law of the kingdom which 
required them to put their private wealth into the 
common fund, Peter declared that their crime was 
an attempt to deceive the Holy Ghost and to de- 
fraud the church, and the wrath of God fell on 
them so that they died; and ye know that of all 
the countless idols of the heathen our Lord de- 
nounces one by name — Mammon. To worship 
whom is only to adopt social and political systems 
which recognize and maintain individual right to 


EUSEBIUS OFFERETH THE BANDS 215 


acquire, hold and transmit property, thereby mak- 
ing all pagan governments inure to the benefit of 
the few and to the oppression of the many, and 
rendering true liberty and religion impossible for 
the masses of mankind. How can there be al- 
liance between Christ’s common church and the 
Roman Empire ? Think ye that unconverted men 
will transfer their riches to the church, and con- 
secrate unrighteous mammon to the good of all, 
in order to gain admittance thereto? Verily, a 
camel shall sooner pass through a needle’s eye ! 
Or, will ye dare with sacrilegious hands to seal a 
compact binding the church to give her sanction 
to property — laws directly antagonistic to the 
fundamental law of the church — laws that prac- 
tically make riches God? 

“ If ye shall induce the church of Christ to 
adopt and endorse the social, political and re- 
ligious system of Rome, that is simply to abandon 
Jesus, and there are many who will refuse, at any 
hazard, to follow you one step ! If ye shall in- 
duce the church to make a covenant with Con- 
stantine that he will shove pagan gods aside, and 
substitute for them a secularized church, bearing 
the same relation to the empire that paganism now 
sustains, that is only to set up the Anti-Christ ; and 
Constantine is he ! 

“ Moreover, brethren, ye all know that to 
abandon communism of believers is to surrender, 


216 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


also, the thaumaturgical powers which are ap- 
purtenant to the common church only, and can 
only be exercised for the common good of all 
Christians; and the ecclesiasticism which ye shall 
have substituted for the gospel will be a human 
institution that must be perpetuated by only human 
agencies or fail; because when ye accept this al- 
lowance ye abandon all of the gospel except the 
single spiritual truth of justification by faith, 
which truth alone may save some souls of man, 
but never can convert mankind. 

“ I, therefore, counsel that we at once decree 
that the church cannot make an alliance with any 
temporal government without abandoning the 
gospel of Christ, and that this we will not do, 
preferring rather, if need be, the sword, the 
fagots and the cross, as from the beginning our 
fathers have always done.” 

Then a clamor arose, many crying out: “ It is 
enough! ” “ Take a vote! ” “ We will die for 

Christ, but will not betray him ! ” “ It is too 

much to pay for peace ! ” 

And Eusebius, well seeing that if a vote were 
taken then, the proposition of Epaphras would 
prevail by the common consent, arose, and, with 
his wonderfully persuasive voice and manner, 
spoke as follows: “ Brethren, if, indeed, the ac- 
ceptance of the emperor’s proposal should involve 
any such consequences as have been urged by the 


EUSEBIUS OFFERETH THE BANDS 217 


most pious and learned Epaphras, I freely admit 
that we ought at once to reject it. But if we be 
agreed that we cannot accept this proposition, ye 
all see that there certainly can be no need to 
affront the haughty and powerful Constantine by 
rough or precipitate action. On the contrary, as 
far as in us lies we should endeavor to live peace- 
fully with all men. I, therefore, counsel that the 
matter be not finally determined at this time, but 
rather that we leave it undetermined (which, in- 
deed, seemeth sufficient to accomplish all that the 
excellent Epaphras desireth), and that in the 
meantime we take proper steps both to furnish 
the emperor with the information which he has 
very kindly and courteously desired, and also to 
learn with preciseness just what he would require 
of the church, and that we carefully consider how, 
and to what extent, that which he may really de- 
sire can affect the spread of gospel truth. And 
I counsel this all the more earnestly, brethren, 
because I have both seen and conversed with the 
man Constantine, and believe that he is intellectu- 
ally a greater man than any other Roman. He is 
most temperate, studious and chaste. He is very 
favorably inclined to our holy faith, and we 
should not quench the smoking flax. Let us, 
therefore, delay; and if we should find it proper 
to reject all overtures that may be made, let us 
so act as that the emperor may perceive our re- 


218 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


fusal to be of conscience only, and not of pride, 
hatred or uncharitableness. For I yet hope to see 
this emperor a Christian.” 

Then, cried out Epaphras in a loud voice: 
“ Thou knowest that no emperor can be a Chris- 
tian; for a Christian must be the brother, not the 
legal master, of other Christians. The church can 
recognize no king but Christ ! ” 

But, nevertheless, the moderate counsel of 
Eusebius prevailed, and Christ suffered again 
from the unchristian spirit of compromise which 
made the Procurator Pontius Pilate seek to wash 
his own hands clean of the innocent blood! 

And so the bishop was instructed to send an 
embassy to Constantine, with accurate information 
of the numerical strength and other resources of 
the church ; and to learn with exactness what might 
be those conditions on which a heathen emperor 
would take under his protection the church of the 
living God. 


CHAPTER XVII 


IN WHICH THE BARBARIAN IS CIVILIZED 

Tl/TEANTIME the centurion had made his 
weekly visit to the catacombs, and Dorcas 
had given to him beautiful parchments contain- 
ing the Four Gospels and the Acts of the Apostles, 
and the young man had read them over and over 
again with a strange, absorbing interest, and espe- 
cially the very words of Jesus, until he could have 
written out from memory almost every passage 
contained therein. He desired to understand 
precisely what Christianity, as Christ Himself 
propounded it, really contained, and believed that 
he had done so. 

After the services were ended upon the follow- 
ing Sabbath, and he and Epaphras and Dorcas 
had remained in the chapel after the withdrawal 
of the congregation, as was their pleasant custom, 
Marcellus handed back the parchments to Dorcas, 
saying: “ I thank thee much, dear Dorcas, for 
the privilege of perusing these wonderful books, 
which I have read a number of times over with 
continual delight and interest. Somehow the 
219 


220 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


heart ever groweth more warm unto this sinless, 
loving Nazarene, and the mind seems to be ex- 
alted and chastened by reading what these Gospels 
say of Him. I desire to have a copy thereof 
made for mine own use, and if it is permitted to 
do so, I will bring hither the parchments; and 
wilt thou aid me? ” 

“ Nay, friend,” said Dorcas. “ These are even 
thine; for with mine own hand began I long ago 
to transcribe them for thee. Nevertheless, thou 
hadst best leave them here until this prosecuting 
spirit of the Romans shall exhaust itself, as it 
would be dangerous to have them found in thy 
possession.” 

“ And thou didst write these books,” he said, 
looking at the voluminous manuscript, “ for me? 
Ah, Dorcas, thou canst not know how sacred thy 
hand hath rendered them in my eyes.” 

Then said Dorcas : “ It was a labor of love, 

Marcellus, because I love the word; and also be- 
cause it was for thee. I have made other copies 
beside this, also, of these books, and of all the 
Epistles, and of the Revelation; and when I did 
copy the Medea for the Vice-Prefect Varus, one 
day I brought hither the first skin of those parch- 
ments, and did write thereon an illuminated initial 
letter, such as thou seest in thy Gospels here, and 
Varus when he saw it was much gratified and said 
to me : ‘ Child, it is beautiful ! Who taught 


THE BARBARIAN IS CIVILIZED 


221 


thee that?’ And I did laugh, but did not an- 
swer him.” 

Then said Marcellus: “ Have ye other sacred 
books? Do they contain more full accounts of 
Jesus? Or is all that He taught and did, the 
whole of His system, fully set forth in the simple 
and beautiful parchment I have read? ” 

Then said Epaphras: “There is nothing in 
Christianity that must be believed or done that is 
not fully taught in the Four Gospels and the Acts. 
True, we have the sacred writings of the Jews, 
beginning with the Mosaic accounts of the crea- 
tion, which trace the descent of Abraham from 
Adam, and which, also, contain the whole of the 
national, social and religious history of the Jews 
for centuries before the foundations of Rome were 
begun. But the whole of this law and prophecy 
was, as a school-master, to lead us unto Christ, 
and was fulfilled in Him. We have, also, vari- 
ous letters of Paul, and others, written to the 
churches since the death of Jesus; but these Epis- 
tles relate chiefly to controversies between the Jews 
and the Christians, and between the Christians and 
the heathen, and the philosophers; and are, also, 
hortatory to the churches; and we have the Rev- 
elation of John, but the time is not yet come to 
fully understand his sayings. All the other sacred 
writings are useful only in proving, illustrating 
and enforcing, what the Four Gospels and the 


222 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


Acts contain ; and unless one should desire to edu- 
cate himself to teach or to preach, I do not think 
it necessary or even profitable for him to read or 
study them. But wilt thou tell me, centurion, 
what thou thinkest of these books? What thine 
estimate of Christianity may be? What is it that 
the books teach thee? ” 

Then the centurion replied: “ I fear thou wilt 
be disappointed at the meagerness and simplicity 
of the system, which is all that I am able to ad- 
duce from a short but earnest study of these five 
parchments; for the first thing that impressed 
itself upon my mind is the fact that the teaching 
of Jesus, unlike that of Greek and Roman phi- 
losophers and priests, is absolutely barren of 
dogmas and of doctrines. His appeals are made 
to, his proofs are drawn from, the heart and con- 
sciousness of every man, and not to and from 
dogmas and authority. And it seems to me that 
no sane man can deny the truth of anything which 
His teachings assume to be true; for He seems to 
me to know just what is in the human heart.” 

“ That is the exact truth,” said Epaphras. 
“ No bishop could state the case with greater ac- 
curacy. Jesus teaches no dogmas, despises all 
philosophers, forms, customs and ceremonies, and 
deals directly with the heart and consciousness of 
each individual ! ” 

“ The second thing which impressed me most 


THE BARBARIAN IS CIVILIZED 


223 


powerfully, and I confesr filled me with astonish- 
ment, is the fact that Jesus does not announce any 
new truth even of a spiritual character. The 
Jews must have known all that He taught. The 
rewards of faith, and the immortality of the soul, 
are assumed by Him to be well-known and gen- 
erally accepted truths; only the Sadducees con- 
troverted this position. He offers Himself as the 
proper object of human faith, the Messiah in 
whom they believed, and whom they were expect- 
ing; and this claim that He was the Christ is all 
that seems to be new in His teachings.” 

“ Thou hast rightly read the word,” said 
Epaphras, “ and thine estimate is good. What 
else hast thou learned? ” 

“ I find,” said Marcellus, “ that this simple 
creed of faith in Christ has far less to do with 
Elysium or Hades — the condition of the soul 
after death — than with the temporal life and 
welfare of mankind. 1 have reckoned up some 
seventy-two parables spoken by Jesus, of which 
only two seem to refer to the future life, and all 
the others to the kingdom of heaven upon earth, 
which kingdom is plainly set forth as a democracy, 
in which equality and fraternity of all believers is 
secured by the denial of the right to bear arms, 
or to engage in war, by abolishing all serfdom 
and slavery, and by abolishing the right to ac- 
quire, hold or transmit private rights of property, 


224 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


including in the word ‘ property,’ not only estates, 
real and personal, but all offices, prerogatives and 
privileges, so that there may be equality, partner- 
ship, fellowship, among believers, and that the 
man who is most esteemed and loved may be the 
man who does the most good for others. And I 
understand that Jesus ordained monogamic mar- 
riage, and prohibited divorce, so that the family 
might be the basis for Christian civilization, which 
is the common church. But Jesus says that in all 
this He taught nothing new — only fulfilled the 
Jewish law and prophecies.” 

“ Verily thou hast read the parchments with the 
spirit and the understanding, centurion! Thou 
hast grasped the very gospel of Christ in the full- 
ness of its divine simplicity and purity! But is 
there aught else that thou hast learned?” 

“ Yea,” answered Marcellus, “ there is one 
other thing that seemeth, indeed, to be the very 
heart of the whole matter, of which I hesitate to 
speak — for it is somehow a most mysterious and 
sacred thing — it is that of which Christ talked 
with Nicodemus.” 

“ Yea,” cried the presbyter, “ the Palingenesis 
— the new birth. Thou mayest believe, Marcel- 
lus — perhaps thou dost already believe — that 
Jesus is the Christ; thou mayest believe that His 
teachings in regard to war, in regard to personal 
liberty for all men and personal accountability, in 


THE BARBARIAN IS CIVILIZED 225 


regard to property and in regard to marriage, are 
divinely true, surpassing all human laws, philan- 
thropy and statesmanship — and yet not be a 
Christian ! Of all these things thou mayest com- 
mune with thy friends, as thou has been accus- 
tomed to do with us; but one step beyond this is 
the Holy of Holies; one step beyond this bring- 
eth thee, and every man, to the supreme question 
of human life, which only thou and thy Lord can 
settle. 4 Wilt thou have the man Christ Jesus to 
reign over thee ? ’ Here the mediation of an 
angel would be an impertinence to thee and to thy 
God; the intermeddling of presbyter, or of bishop, 
would be a blasphemy. No man can aid thee 
here. It is the voluntary and conscious rejection 
of Jesus, or else it is the voluntary, conscious and 
unreserved submission of thy will to the will of 
Christ, and that thing thou and He must settle 
as thou wilt. Thou hast no further need of me, 
my son. Farewell.’ , 

Then rose Epaphras up, and took his lamp, and 
quietly departed out of the chapel. But the 
maiden Dorcas slipped down upon her knees be- 
side the youth, and clasped her yearning arms 
about him, and hid her sweet face in his breast, 
and his open hand lay on her shining hair. 

There was no metaphysical haze, nor dreami- 
ness, nor mystery, about it. Epaphras had set 
him face to face with the great question, and then 


226 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


began in his own soul the terrible contest of which 
the souls of all men have been somehow, some- 
time, in some form or other, the everlasting battle- 
field. 

He understood perfectly well just what it 
meant. There was no place for self-deception. 
Christ, he knew, could never be deceived. Either 
he could reject Jesus and go his own way, to 
gather all the blessings of the world; or he could 
submit himself to Jesus,’ go whithersoever he 
might order, and forfeit all. What must he do? 
He was young, intelligent, wealthy. He was a 
centurion already and was thoroughly accom- 
plished in his profession of arms; he was of an old 
and honorable family; the Roman world was al- 
most in his grasp; he could, by an act of the will 
alone, stifle the intangible sense of duty, silence 
the speechless voice of conscience and gratify all 
human lusts and ambitions as few men have ever 
had the opportunity to do; or he could turn his 
back upon all those material advantages, renounce 
his already important position in the empire, sub- 
ject himself to the pity and contempt of his asso- 
ciates, and to the measureless scorn of the proud 
class to which he belonged, to enter upon a life 
of poverty, self-denial, esteemed to be infamous, 
full of toils and danger, leading, perhaps, to 
martyrdom. What must he do ? 

Epaphras was right. No mortal could give 


THE BARBARIAN IS CIVILIZED 


227 


him any aid; it was a business to be transacted 
between his soul and Christ. 

The struggle grew more and more desperate 
every instant; his brows knitted, and his lips grew 
white, and his bosom heaved tempestuously with 
fierce agony and strife. ' Hour after hour the 
fearful contest shook him, soul and body. But 
the young girl would not leave him. Kneeling 
beside him, she suffered with him, and all her heart 
yearned over him; but hardly did either of them 
speak. Often prayed she for the Holy Spirit to 
descend upon him. Again she sat near him, with 
his hand in hers. 

Finally the tempest passed away. In the 
depths of his own heart, freely, voluntarily, with 
a painfully distinct consciousness of all the con- 
sequences that might follow, he consecrated him- 
self, soul and body, once for all, for life and 
death, for time and eternity, to Jesus Christ and 
His service; and a great calm, full of peace 
and joy, came over him. With a radiant smile 
upon his worn and haggard face, he said most 
simply: “It is all over, Dorcas; I will follow 
Jesus Christ.’’ 

Then the floodgates of long-restrained emotions 
were opened in her heart, and the young maiden 
laughed, and cried, and sang praises to her. 
God, all in a breath, and she did kiss Mar- 
cellus over and over again, saying continually: 


228 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“ Thank God for thee, Marcellus ! Praise the 
Lord, oh, my soul ! for His loving kindness — oh, 
how great! And His mercy endureth forever.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


IN WHICH EUSEBIUS SHOWETH THE SWADDLING- 
BANDS OF CONSTANTINE 

"rpUSEBIUS, who was the principal one among 
those who were nominated to go upon the 
embassage to Constantine, undertook the long 
journey to Lutetia with good hope, and right 
speedily accomplished it. The church statistics 
which he laid before the emperor filled him with 
astonishment, and at first with alarm, but his 
anxiety speedily changed into pleasure when he 
had been more fully informed of the doctrines 
and practices of the Christians. For he was so 
astute a politician “ that the passive and unre- 
sisting obedience which bows under the yoke of 
authority or even of oppression appeared in the 
eyes of an absolute monarch the most conspicuous 
and useful of the evangelic virtues.’’ For as the 
Christians were forbidden by their faith “ to em- 
ploy force even in defense of their religion, they 
would be still more criminal if they were tempted 
to shed the blood of their fellow-creatures in dis- 
puting the vain privileges or the sordid possessions 
of this transitory life.” So that he had no fear 
229 


230 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


of their great numbers and opulent resources when 
he learned that the Christians, “ Faithful to the 
doctrine of the Apostle who, in the reign of Nero, 
had preached the duty of unconditional submission 
during the first three centuries, had preserved their 
consciences pure and innocent of the guilt of secret 
conspiracy or of open rebellion. While they ex- 
perienced the rigor of persecution they were never 
provoked either to meet their tyrants in the field 
or indignantly to withdraw themselves into some 
remote and sequestered corner of the world.” So 
that Constantine’s first emotion of alarm at the 
discovery of a body of men so numerous, so zeal- 
ous and so thoroughly organized “ that they 
constituted a distinct democracy, which was al- 
ready governed by its own laws and officers, was 
possessed of a common treasure and was intimately 
connected through all its parts by the frequent as- 
semblies of its bishops, to whose decrees their 
numerous and opulent congregations yielded im- 
plicit obedience,” was entirely removed upon 
learning the tenets of their faith, which rendered 
them a valuable, but not a dangerous element, in 
the population of the empire. For the far-seeing 
Constantine at once perceived that there would 
always be soldiers enough unless all people should 
become Christians, and saw that if all became 
Christians there would be no need of soldiers, but 
that swords might be beaten into plowshares and 


THE SWADDLING-BANDS 


231 


spears into pruning-hooks ; and that while this 
change was in progress (if indeed it ever should 
occur) the resources of the empire would be kept 
increasing by the peaceful industry of the Chris- 
tian communities. 

“I must have,” he said unto Eusebuis — “I 
must have the friendship of this great and won- 
derful community. On what terms can I obtain 
it?” 

“ I judge from the spirit of the council called 
to consider the matter,” said Eusebius, “ that it 
would be well-nigh impossible to induce them to 
bear arms in any cause; because by the teachings 
of Christ and by the practice of the church for 
three centuries they are forbidden to do so.” 

“ Then,” said Constantine, “ the same supersti- 
tion that forbids them to bear arms in my behalf 
ought also to prevent them from affording any 
assistance to Maxentius.” 

“ Assuredly,” answered Eusebius, “ except that 
they pay taxes to the powers that be; to thine if 
they be under thy dominion; to Maxentius while 
he bears rule. If they could be induced to go to 
war at all they would recruit an army for thee. 
But for three centuries they have steadily refused 
to bear arms even in defense of the faith for 
which they do not hesitate to die.” 

“ I must have this people,” said Constantine. 
“ I will have them. Thou mayest take back to 


232 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


them my pledge that I will exempt all Christians 
from military service and leave them in full en- 
joyment of their own democratic institutions.” 

“ Permit me to suggest,” said Eusebius, “ that 
thine imperial mandate go not quite so far. Let 
it be left as a matter of conscience to each indi- 
vidual; for there be many Christians who would 
serve if the church did not forbid it, and the 
clergy insist mightily upon liberty of conscience.” 

“ So let it be,” answered the emperor; “ for in 
many things I prefer the system of these Chris- 
tians to any that is known in history. Wouldst 
thou advise me to profess this faith, and join the 
church? ” 

“ Nay,” answered Eusebius. “ They fully un- 
derstand that no emperor can be a Christian with- 
out ceasing to be an emperor. The church is 
democracy, liberty, equality, fraternity. No 
bishop would baptize thee unless thou first resign 
thy scepter.” 

“ Speak thou freely,” said Constantine. “ I 
desire to know thy very thoughts, without re- 
serve.” 

“ I think,” answered the wise Eusebius, “ that 
thou hast discovered the deepest political truth of 
this century, in holding that the best subjects for 
an absolute monarch are those who, like the Chris- 
tians, will not bear arms at all — for such I 
perceive to be thy sentiment. But the Christians 


THE SWADDLING-BANDS 


233 


hold other doctrines with equal tenacity and un- 
swerving faith. They are opposed to slavery, 
and no Christian will own a slave. They utterly 
deny the right of the individual to acquire, hold, 
or transmit private property, and the church holds 
all in common for the good of all. They con- 
sider monogamic marriage a sacrament of 
religion; deny the lawfulness of divorce, and con- 
stitute the family the basis of society, and the 
church the only superstructure that Christians can 
lawfully aid in erecting thereon. Any profession 
of faith that is not followed by the practice of 
these social and political principles they would 
believe to be hypocritical, and would regard with 
loathing and contempt. So that it is impossible 
for Augustus to conform his life to these funda- 
mental laws of the Kingdom of Heaven.” 

44 But,” exclaimed Constantine, 44 I must have 
this people! And, by Jupiter Ammon, I will 
have them ! ” 

Then he sprang from his seat and paced the 
room with rapid strides until he had regained his 
equanimity. Then he sat down in front of Euse- 
bius and fixed his splendid eyes upon him with a 
gaze as calm and searching as if he sought to read 
his very soul, and presently he said: 44 Art thou 
a Christian?” 

And the mellifluous voice of Eusebius answered 
in placid, liquid tones : 


234 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


“ I am a bishop of the church of Christ.” 

“ Is that the highest rank known to the Chris- 
tian democracy?” 

“ Yea. We have no apostles now, and all 
bishops possess equal authority — the power and 
influence exercised by them depending only upon 
the respective character of the individual and the 
locality, numbers, and opulence of his church.” 

Then said Constantine, musingly: “ The high- 
priest of the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem; the chief of 
the Order of the Druids in Britain; the Flamen of 
Jupiter, Pontifex Maximus at Rome; the bishops 
of the church of Christ — they are all men, and 
all alike.” And then he continued in a lower 
tone: “If thou canst bring the Christian com- 
munities over to me, what good thing dost thou 
desire for thyself? Speak boldly, without lying 
or equivocation ! I will have no evasion, or 
crookedness in any man with whom I talk.” 

“ I should expect to receive,” said Eusebius, 
placidly, “ and think that I would deserve, the 
confidence and favor of the greatest emperor that 
hath ever governed Rome.” 

Then the two most able men of that century 
gazed for a moment into each other’s eyes, and 
understood each other perfectly. 

“ Now,” said Constantine, “ knowing the 
Christians thoroughly, as thou dost, I desire thee 
to advise me carefully how I may bind this people 


THE SWADDLING-BANDS 


235 


to my throne. What is thy counsel — for thou 
art not a fool, and thou hast already sifted this 
whole matter clean? ” 

Eusebius made a very singular reply, only 
saying : 

“ Hast thou ever read 4 The Acts of the 
Apostles’ ? ” 

An angry frown contracted the brow of Con- 
stantine for a moment, but it passed away, and 
he replied: 

“No! But why dost thou ask a question so 
impertinent to the matter in hand? ” 

Then said Eusebius, still apparently thinking 
of something foreign to the subject of their 
thoughts : 44 It may be hard for thee to realize the 

truth, but the truth is, that from the days of Pon- 
tius Pilate until now, the church of Christ, by the 
power of faith, hath been accustomed to unstop 
the ears of the deaf, cure the lame and the halt, 
restore sight to the blind, and raise the dead, and 
to do many other thaumaturgical works, as the 
usual and proper evidence of the divinity of Jesus, 
and the right of the church to teach and to preach 
by His authority; and this thaumaturgical power 
is the secret of that splendid vitality which has 
enabled the church to live and to flourish, al- 
though all the resources of pagan power and 
civilization have been deployed against her from 
the very beginning. Thou wilt understand, there- 


236 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


fore, that a miracle to a Christian does not seem 
to be any strange or incredible thing. In fact, I 
have witnessed at least hundreds, and nearly all 
Christians have seen them. If thou wilt carefully 
read the Acts of the Apostles to-night, and espe- 
cially the dramatic and beautiful account of the 
conversion of Saul of Tarsus, I will wait upon 
thee in the morning to offer thee one single com- 
ment upon that scripture.” 

“ Thou mayest go,” said Constantine, “ with 
the assurance that I will read the book with care.” 

When, on the next morning, Eusebius came be- 
fore the Emperor, Constantine immediately spoke 
as follows: “The conversion of Saul of Tarsus 
was a wonderful event. I have read the whole 
parchment thrice, and that particular passage 
oftener still. I tell thee, bishop, that the internal 
evidences of its verity are so irresistible that I 
believe the story to be true. In fact, I would do 
anything to be a Christian, except to resign the 
Roman Empire — that I will not do. Now what 
is the comment on this scripture?” 

Eusebius gazed upon the emperor, and saw that 
Constantine spoke in very sincerity and truth, and 
murmured to himself : “ Many men have lost 

their souls for less ! ” 

But to the emperor he said: “I have been 
praying that God might commission thee to pro- 
tect His church, and that He might confirm thy 


THE SWADDLING-BANDS 


237 


mission by some sign as significant and sublime as 
that which Paul offered as evidence of his own 
apostleship. I desire of thee permission to return 
straightway to Rome. If any authentic informa- 
tion should shortly follow me that the event for 
which I prayed had really come to pass, I would 
thank God and take courage, and might persuade 
the church to accept thee as their emperor, ap- 
pointed by Heaven to bring peace unto the long 
persecuted saints, even although thou thyself 
should not become a Christian but remain the em- 
peror. Have I thy permission to return at once 
to Rome? ” 

“Yea; go thou quickly,” said Constantine, with 
eagerness. “ The daimon tells me that the thing 
thou hast desired of Heaven shall certainly occur! 
I have, indeed, a strong assuring faith that it will 
happen ! Hasten thou to Rome.” 

And so, furthered by Constantine by every aid 
that imperial power could command up to the 
confines of Italy, Eusebius returned to Rome. 
Upon the occasion of the former council this 
adroit and unscrupulous man had carefully ascer- 
tained and preserved the name and address of 
every bishop and presbyter who had favored his 
own views, and being afraid to submit the 
question of adopting the policy upon which his 
own heart was set to a council in which the stern, 
incorruptible Christian integrity of Epaphras and 


238 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


of many like him would confront, expose and over- 
whelm the plausible sophisms by which he had 
deceived even himself, he chose rather to confer 
privily with those who had been inclined to favor 
his own views. Therefore, both at Rome and 
elsewhere, he solicited an interview with such 
as could conveniently assemble at each place, and 
obtained their signatures, knowing that Constan- 
tine would not understand the differences between 
a document authenticated by their individual 
names and a decree passed by the common consent 
in regular council. 

The points upon which Eusebius insisted in 
these small but numerous assemblies, with consum- 
mate address, were about as follows: That upon 
further conference with Constantine he had found 
him to be far more favorably inclined to Chris- 
tianity than he had aforetime believed or repre- 
sented; that the emperor would not require any 
Christian to bear arms, but would leave it to the 
conscience of each one to determine for himself 
whether he might do so or not — a “liberty of 
conscience ” upon which the church had always 
insisted; that no alliance between the church and 
the emperor was desired, or even proposed, but 
that the emperor only desired the prayers of the 
Christians, their loyalty and friendship, the pay- 
ment of customary taxes — which as citizens they 
had paid even to Nero and Diocletian — and 


THE SWADDLING-BANDS 


239 


wished to give them legal protection, if the church 
would accept it; that within the limits of their own 
community the Christians might maintain their 
laws and customs unimpaired; and that if the civil 
war, in which he was about to engage, should be 
protracted beyond one campaign, they must fur- 
nish money or supplies, or both. 

Eusebius urged vehemently that these things 
did not constitute any alliance with the emperor, 
and were not inconsistent with Christianity, and 
in this plausible statement of the case he soon 
found able coadjutors to divide the work with 
him, and prosecute the business in many quarters 
simultaneously. To all of them he furnished an 
answer to the one fatal objection “ that any con- 
sensus between the church and the empire must 
necessarily shear the Christians clear of all thau- 
maturgical powers which were appurtenant only 
to the pure democracy of Christ, wherein they 
must of necessity be exercised only for the com- 
mon good, and could never be used to build up an 
earthly kingdom, or a secularized church,” as 
follows : That it must be candidly admitted that 
the loss of thaumaturgical power would in all 
probability follow the acceptance of the imperial 
protection ; but that these powers were given only 
to enable the church to maintain herself against a 
world hostile to the claims of Christianity; that 
spiritual truth would be preserved unimpaired, and 


240 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


that the miracles which had been continuously 
wrought for three centuries would be sufficient 
evermore to demonstrate the gospel truth; that 
there could be no necessity for continuous miracu- 
lous aid to insure the triumph of the church, 
backed by the Roman Empire, the mistress of the 
world; and that, finally, if a time should ever ar- 
rive in the history of the church when it might 
become necessary to resort to thaumaturgy to 
secure her triumph, the church could do so by cut- 
ting loose from all secular governments and reor- 
ganizing her communities on the primitive 
foundation of communism and faith. 

By these and many more such specious argu- 
ments Eusebius secured a great number of signa- 
tures of bishops and presbyters to a parchment 
promising what Constantine desired. And this 
was made the more easy by an extraordinary 
rumor that became current among the Christians 
both at Rome and elsewhere. It was affirmed 
that the Emperor Constantine, marching at the 
head of his army at midday, had seen a miraculous 
cross in the heavens shining above the brightness 
of the sun and had seen an inscription thereon in 
the Greek language: “ In this sign conquer; ” it 
was furthermore given out that in a vision of the 
night, Christ or an angel, had appeared unto the 
emperor, and had directed him to take for a stand- 
ard a cross bearing his own effigy, and the words 


THE SWADDLING-BANDS 


241 


which he had beheld upon that cross seen by him 
in heaven, and to march against Maxentius and 
all his enemies with the assurance of success; and 
that he must be the Protector of the Church of 
Jesus Christ. It was further given out that the 
vision had directed him to call his standard by a 
miraculous name, Labarum , a word before un- 
known to the human race, and having no root or 
origin in any earthly language. It was further- 
more given out that although the whole army had 
seen the celestial sign, Constantine (because of the 
heathen) desired the vision and the words to be 
kept secret from all except the Christians. 

To those who made careful inquiry, what seemed 
to be the main fact, the luminous appearance 
above the midday sun, was proved by incontestable 
and overwhelming testimony; and Eusebius and 
those who acted with him used this strange story 
with wonderful success in bringing still others over 
to their own views; and many urged that a council 
be summoned to consider the whole matter again. 
But this Eusebius vehemently opposed, saying that 
it was not necessary, and that Constantine did not 
require their action to be taken in council, being 
satisfied with their signatures and the revelation 
vouchsafed to him constituting him the Defender 
of the Faith. But when these things came to the 
knowledge of Epaphras and those who agreed 
with him in sentiment, they vigorously endeavored 


242 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


to secure the calling of a council, but their action 
had been forestalled by Eusebius; and when they 
found that they could not obtain their desires in 
this regard, they issued a pastoral letter to all of 
the churches, warning them against the course 
pursued by Eusebius. And this letter began with 
the declaration that “ Eusebius had forestalled the 
summoning of a council, because he well knew 
that whenever the common church might meet to 
deliberate upon the matter the Holy Ghost would 
come upon them, and would guide them into all 
truth — which fact Eusebius feared.” 

The letter also said, “ the day that ye conclude 
this sacrilegious bargain miracles will cease; or 
will henceforth occur only sporadically, beyond 
any control or influence of the church, and in such 
seemingly accidental ways as to render them no 
longer available as evidence of the divinity of 
Jesus. Then ye will have nothing left of Christ’s 
gospel except its spiritual truth, and Christianity 
will speedily become a mere ecclesiasticism as 
much as Judaism or paganism — a secularized 
church using the religious sentiment of mankind 
to maintain political despotisms, ready to give the 
pretended sanction of our Lord to war, slavery, 
Mammon-worship and every other crime, fraud 
and injustice that the empire may establish by 
some felon formula of law.” 

And the letter said, “ and there will grow up an 


THE SWADDLING-BANDS 


243 


ecclesiasticism in which the so-called ministers of 
Christ shall preach the gospel for money, and 
there shall be among them envy, jealousy, hatred, 
strife, ambition and selfishness, such as even the 
heathen permit not in their temples; ” and the let- 
ter also said: “The church so constituted shall 
be the master of ceremonies for countless forms, 
doctrines and secular authority, condemned by 
Jesus, and shall lose the power of godliness and 
the beauty of truth, even as the Eusebians them- 
selves admit that thaumaturgy shall fade away; ” 
and the letter concluded as follows : “ Brethren, 

this is to sell our Lord; it is to destroy His holy 
common church ; it is to establish mere Pharisaism 
upon the ruins of forsaken and forgotten Chris- 
tianity; it is to set up the Anti-Christ.” 

And this letter having been read by many, some 
of them who had signed went to Eusebius to erase 
their signatures from the parchment; to whom he 
answered: “The parchment hath already been 
sent and is far upon the way to the emperor.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


IN WHICH THERE IS A DEATH AND ALSO A 
MARRIAGE 

TXT'HILE this business was transacting secretly, 
and before Eusebius had procured the 
signatures to the parchment which he sent to Con- 
stantine, after the centurion Marcellus had been 
baptized by Epaphras in the chapel in the cata- 
combs, and had partaken of the communion in one 
of those pleasant Sabbath-day conferences which 
had long been customary between himself, Dorcas 
and Epaphras, the young man spake thus : “ I am, 
indeed, very happy, Father Epaphras, in the faith 
of Christ; but I feel bound in my conscience to 
abandon the military service of the empire, and to 
publicly declare my faith in Jesus; nor can I have 
perfect peace until this shall have been done.” 

“ If thou do this thing publicly,” said Epa- 
phras, “ the Romans will put thee to death, both 
because thou art a Christian, and also because thou 
forsakest the military life without the consent of 
the emperor. Nevertheless, Marcellus, consider 
the matter well, and follow thou the teachings of 
thine own conscience.” 


244 


A DEATH AND ALSO A MARRIAGE 245 


And the centurion said: “ I have considered it 
very fully. I know that the duties of an officer in 
the army of the empire and the duties of a Chris- 
tian are irreconcilable. I have resolved upon this 
course, and will pursue it. I cannot do other- 
wise.” 

“ A life bought by the sacrifice of one’s con- 
science is purchased at too dear a price,” said 
Epaphras. “ The Libellatici and the Thurificati, 
who have purchased of the heathen priests or 
magistrates false certificates that they had sacri- 
ficed to the pagan gods, when it was not true that 
they had done so, in order to escape the conse- 
quences of having been discovered to be Chris- 
tians, have no peace, although forgiven by the 
church.” 

“ I am resolved,” said Marcellus, “ and I have 
mentioned the matter to thee chiefly because if I 
be slain therefor, perhaps the Lord might grant 
the Anastasis, which I do desire exceedingly, if it 
be His will.” 

“ The church shall pray for thee in that be- 
half,” said Epaphras. “ Thou understandest that 
we do not know what may be the will of God 
concerning thee ! ” 

“ I go hence,” said Marcellus, “ to carry out my 
purpose. If I perish, I perish. Fare thee 
well ! ” 

Then the presbyter embraced him and kissed 


246 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


him on his forehead, saying : “ Farewell, my son ! 

The peace of God be and abide with thee ! ” 

And after a tender leave-taking of Dorcas, the 
centurion, who had learned the way to and from 
the chapel by repeated visits, departed upon his 
dangerous mission. 


The next evening, when the legion to which he 
belonged was mustered for customary exercise, 
which had recently become frequent and onerous 
because of the impending war with Constantine, 
in the view of the legion and of a crowd that had 
assembled to watch their evolutions, the centurion 
deliberately left the head of his century and ad- 
vanced to the legionary, who turned fiercely upon 
him and cried out: 

“Why hast thou left thy post? What dost 
thou here ? ” 

Then Marcellus took off his belt, and his arms, 
and the insignia of his office, and laid them down 
at the feet of the legionary, and he said in a loud 
voice : 

“ Know thou that I have become a Christian, 
whom conscience permitteth not to bear arms, and 
I do here resign my command, refuse to serve 
longer, and will follow no king but Jesus Christ 
henceforth.” 

But the legionary, drawing his sword, cried out: 

“ I care not for thy conscience, nor for thy 


A DEATH AND ALSO A MARRIAGE 247 

Christ, but for military order and obedience; and 
if thou dost not instantly resume thine arms, and 
return straight to thy proper place, I will smite 
thee dead with mine own hand.” 

Marcellus crossed his arms upon his breast, and, 
gazing upon the legionary, said: 

“ For conscience’ sake I will not obey thee. 
Strike thou home ! ” 

And thereupon the legionary thrust his sword 
through Marcellus’ bosom so that the point there- 
of came out behind his back, and the young cen- 
turion sank down upon his knees, and then fell at 
full length upon the ground. 

And the legionary set his foot upon the breast 
of Marcellus, and pulled and withdrew his two- 
edged sword, and holding it aloft did cry aloud, 
saying: 

“ So may all traitors and all Christians die ! ” 

At the order of the legionary, the soldiers 
marched past the centurion’s body as it lay prone 
upon the ground. Then four men were told off 
to bear it away from the Campus Martius and lay 
it where it would not obstruct the maneuvers, 
which were continued as though no such terrible 
thing had happened, while a messenger was dis- 
patched to the Vice-Prefect Varus bearing the 
news of his son’s treason and summary execution 
at the hands of the legionary. 

But certain men among those who stood around, 


2 4 B DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


presently came forward, raised up his body, and, 
having brought a litter, no one preventing them, 
they placed the body thereon, and they carried it 
to the chapel in the catacombs, wherein were many 
awaiting the return of Epaphras and others who 
had gone to mingle with the crowd about the 
Campus Martius, and to observe the action of 
Marcellus, and what might come of it. 

And Dorcas also was with them there, and at 
the selfsame instant the legionary smote the young 
man she felt as if a sword had pierced her own 
heart also, but she ceased not to pray, and to say: 
“ Surely the Lord will restore him to us! ” 

And when those that brought in the corpse had 
laid it upon the long table in the sight of all, 
Epaphras, the presbyter, prayed mightily to God 
that He would grant the Anastasis for Marcellus, 
and all the people answered, “ Amen ! ” 

And Epaphras, coming round to the table, took 
the hand of Marcellus in his own, saying in a loud 
voice : “ Brother, if it be the will of God concern- 

ing thee, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, 
arise and live ! ” 

And the young man arose and stood upon his 
feet, praising the Lord. And straightway he 
clasped unto his bosom the maiden Dorcas, and 
they did talk with each other briefly, and they did 
call the presbyter Epaphras to come unto them, 
and thereupon the presbyter did call the rejoicing 


A DEATH AND ALSO A MARRIAGE 249 


congregation to order, and when they were seated 
he said: 

“ Marcellus and Dorcas desire to be united in 
matrimony according to God’s holy ordinance. 
Come ye forward I ” 

And the twain came forward, hand in hand, 
and Epaphras saith : “ Do ye each take each other 

for husband and wife, of your own free will and 
choice, to dwell together in the holy estate of 
Christian marriage, according to the commands of 
our Lord Jesus Christ, as in His Gospel is set 
forth ? ” And both of them answered, “ We do.” 
Then saith Epaphras : “ In the name of the 
Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, I 
declare ye twain to be one flesh. Whom, there- 
fore, God hath joined together let no man put 
asunder.” And they both answered, “ Amen ! ” 
and all the people said, “ Amen ! ” And Mar- 
cellus put his arms around Dorcas’ neck and did 
kiss her, and did say with great content, “ Thou 
art my wife ! ” and she did look upon him with 
beaming countenance and did say, “ Thou art my 
husband! ” 

And the congregation were glad and did rejoice, 
and when they all were gone Dorcas took up her 
lamp and said: “ Come, husband mine, and I will 
show to thee the home in which I have dwelt so 
long.” And hand in hand the twain departed 
out of the chapel. 


CHAPTER XX 


FINIS 

'^TOW, the Emperor Constantine in due time re- 
ceived the parchment which Eusebius sent to 
him, signed by many bishops and presbyters, and 
he read the same with joy; and immediately he put 
his legions upon the march to Rome, bearing the 
cruciform standards which they called Labarums. 
After twice defeating the armies which Maxen- 
tius led forth to dispute the passage of the Alps, 
on the 27th day of October, a.d. 312, his forces 
were cantoned at Saxa Rubra, and upon the next 
day he attacked the army of the Emperor Maxen- 
tius, then drawn up in battle order at the Fabricus 
Bridge, nine miles from Rome, and defeated that 
army with great slaughter. And the Emperor 
Maxentius did attempt to swim his horse across 
the Tiber and so escape back into Rome, but he 
was drowned there in the river; and there was no 
more of that war, and Constantine was at once 
recognized as Emperor of Italy, as well as of the 
west, and as Augustus. 

But after the compact which Eusebius had pre- 
pared to be signed by the presbyters and bishops 
had received their signatures and had been de- 
250 


FINIS 


251 


livered to faithful messengers to be conveyed to 
the Emperor Constantine, one whom Maxentius, 
by his magistrates, had ordered to be beheaded, 
had sent earnest requests to the Presbyter Epa- 
iphras and to the church that they would beseech 
God in his behalf that the Anastasis might be 
granted unto him; and they conveyed the body to 
the chapel in the catacombs, and did pray mightily 
as aforetime, but God would not raise him up. 
And likewise some that were ill besought the 
prayers of the church, by which aforetime many 
were healed, and God answered not their prayers. 
And the deaf came to be relieved, and the blind to 
have their sight restored, but no miracle occurred 
in that chapel after the resurrection of Marcellus. 
And Epaphras was sorely grieved and his church. 
And when they found that God no more regarded 
them Epaphras preached unto them often that this 
“ came from the alliance made with Constantine; 
and they all saw that thaumaturgy, which had for 
three hundred years been the glory and defense 
of Christianity, had indeed departed from the 
church and from the world.’’ 

And often Epaphras considered with them 
whether they should not, one and all, leave Rome 
and the Roman Empire and even journey unto 
the Isle of Man, and there found for themselves 
and their children a community unsecularized by 
an alliance with any human government. And 


252 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


they did agree to keep up their services in the 
chapel every Seventh day, and to wait yet a little 
longer, if by chance the Lord would put into the 
hearts of those men to repent of their sin, and 
come again unto the Kingdom of Heaven. But, 
notwithstanding, they made all necessary prepa- 
rations to depart as soon as it should become 
certain that the secularization of the church would 
progress to a hopeless condition. 

And Constantine left Rome and journeyed to 
Milan and established his throne in that city; and 
about April, of the year 313, did the Emperor 
Constantine issue to the Roman people “ The 
Edict of Milan,” which was as follows: 

1<( Wherefore, as I, Constantine Augustus, came under 
favorable auspices to Milan, and took under consideration 
all affairs that pertained to the public benefit and welfare, 
these things among the rest appeared to us to be most 
advantageous and profitable to all. We have resolved 
among the first things to ordain those matters by which 
the reverence and worship to the Deity might be ex- 
hibited. That is, how we may grant likewise to the 
Christians, and to all, the free choice to follow that mode 
of worship which they may wish: that whatsoever di- 
vinity and celestial power may exist may be propitious 
to us and to all that live under our government. There- 
fore we have decreed the following ordinance as our will 
with a salutory and most correct intention, that no free- 

1 From Eusebius Eccles. Hist. : B. x. 1. c. 5. 


FINIS 


253 


dom at all shall be refused to the Christians, to follow or 
keep their observances or worship. . . . And this we 

further decree with respect to the Christians, that the 
places in which they were formerly accustomed to as- 
semble, concerning which also we formerly wrote to you 
faithfully in a different form, that if any person have 
purchased these, either from our treasury or from any 
other one, these shall restore them to the Christians, 
without money and without demanding any price, with- 
out any superadded value or augmentation, without de- 
lay or hesitancy, and if any have happened to receive 
these places as presents that they shall restore them as 
soon as possible to the Christians, so that if either those 
that purchased or those that received them as presents 
have anything to request of our munificence, they may go 
to the provincial governor as the judge, that provision 
may also be made for them by our clemency. All of which 
it will be necessary to be delivered up to the body of Chris- 
tians by your care without any delay. And since the 
Christians themselves are known to have had not only 
those places where they were accustomed to meet , but 
other places also belonging not to individuals among them , 
but to the right of the whole body of Christians , you will 
also command all these, by virtue of the law before men- 
tioned, without any hesitancy, to be restored to these same 
Christians , that is, to their body and to each conventicle 
respectively. The aforesaid consideration, to wit, being 
observed ; namely, that they who, as we have said, restore 
them without valuation and price may expect their in- 
demnity from our munificence and liberality.” 


254 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


And Constantine likewise issued another decree, 
in which he said: 

“ Whence it is our will, that when thou shalt receive 
this epistle, if any of those things belonging to the com- 
mon church of the Christians in the several cities or 
other places are now possessed either by the decurions or 
any others, these thou shalt cause immediately to be 
restored to their churches. . . . Make all haste to 

restore as soon as possible all that belongs to the church, 
whether gardens , houses , or anything else ” 

And Constantine also wrote to Caecilianus, 
Bishop of Carthage : 

“ As we have determined that, in all the provinces of 
Africa, Numidia, and Mauritania something should be 
granted to certain ministers of the legitimate and most 
holy common religion to defray their expenses, I have 
given letters to Ursus, the most illustrious Lieutenant- 
Governor of Africa, and have communicated to him that 
he shall provide to pay to your authority three thousand 
folles. After you shall have obtained this sum, you are 
to order these moneys to be distributed among the afore- 
said ministers, according to the abstract addressed to thee 
from Hosius. But if thou shalt learn, perhaps, that any- 
thing shall be wanting to complete this my purpose with 
regard to all, thou art authorized , without delay, to make 
demands for whatever thou mayest ascertain to be neces- 
sary from Heraclides, the procurator of our possessions, 
and I have also commanded him when present, that if thy 
authority should demand any moneys of him, he should 


FINIS 


255 


see that it should be paid without delay . And, as I ascer- 
tained that some men, who are of no settled mind, wished 
to divert the people from the most holy Catholic Church 
by a certain pernicious adulteration, I wish thee to under- 
stand that I have given, both to the Proconsul Anulinus, 
and to Patricius, Vicar-general of the Prefect, that among 
all the rest, they should particularly pay the necessary 
attention to this, nor should by any means tolerate that 
this should be overlooked . Wherefore, if thou seest any 
of these men persevering in this madness, thou shalt, 
without any hesitancy, proceed to the aforesaid judges , 
and report it to them, that they may animadvert upon 
them, as I commanded them when present.” 

Wherefore, Epaphras plainly perceived that the 
whole Christian constitution of the common 
church was subverted, and a state religion or eccle- 
siasticism substituted for it. 

And when the Presbyter Epaphras had read 
this Edict of Milan, and when he had learned that 
the Emperor Constantine had caused to be raised, 
in the midst of Rome, a statue of himself, bearing 
a cross in its right hand, with an inscription which 
referred the victory of its arms and the deliver- 
ance of Rome to the virtue of that salutary sign, 
the true symbol of force and courage; and had 
learned that “ the same symbol sanctified the arms 
of the soldiers of Constantine; that the cross glit- 
tered on their helmets, was engraved on their 
shields, was interwoven in their banners; and that 


256 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


the consecrated emblems which adorned the person 
of the emperor himself were distinguished only 
by richer materials and more exquisite workman- 
ship; ” when he learned that Constantine, at the 
same time, issued two edicts, “ one of which en- 
joined the solemn observance of Sunday ” (which 
he therein denominated the “ Day of the Sun,” in 
order not to offend the pagans), and the other 
of which “ directed the regular consultation of the 
Aruspices;” when he saw that Constantine en- 
riched the pagan temples; placed the figures and 
attributes of Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, and Hercules, 
upon the money issued from his mint; made a 
solemn apotheosis of his father, Constantius; and 
in all respects, attempted to hold fast to the hea- 
then with one hand, and to the church with the 
other, manifestly designing, and, to a large extent 
accomplishing, the union of these two systems; 
and when he saw the church exalting the character, 
and fawning and flattering the greatness and 
goodness of this man, who still wore the imperial 
purple and had never even been baptized, he in- 
formed his own faithful people thereof, who had 
already agreed that, if that thorough seculariza- 
tion of the church which he had foreboded should 
follow the union of church and state, they would 
leave Italy with him, and remove into some distant 
land beyond the confines of the Roman Empire, 
and there seek to maintain a community for them- 


FINIS 


257 


selves and their children, in which the forms and 
doctrine of the democracy of Christ should be 
fully established; and in the month of June, in the 
year 313, having completed all their preparations 
for entering upon their long journey to the far 
North, they met together to hold divine service, 
for the last time, in their loved chapel in the cata- 
combs; and at the conclusion thereof, with stream- 
ing eyes and aching heart, the Presbyter Epaphras 
said unto them : “ Let us arise and go hence ! ” 

and he took his lamp in his hand and sadly moved 
away; and Marcellus and Dorcas followed next 
after him; and then, in slow and solemn proces- 
sion, bearing their lamps in their hands through 
the long galleries, came the sorrowful but faithful 
congregation. 

And likewise other faithful presbyters and 
bishops and their people, who, also, refused to be- 
tray their Lord by adopting the Roman laws 
which sanctioned war, and slavery, and Mammon- 
worship in the matter of private ownerships of 
property, segregated themselves into little com- 
munities in Italy, Hispania, Gaul and Germany, 
seeking to maintain for themselves and their chil- 
dren the democracy of Christ’s common church; 
and abbeys and monasteries sprang up out of these 
communities. But in the lapse of time the secu- 
larized church became a human government, and 
forced them also to come under their ecclesiastical 


258 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


laws; and the church departed more and more 
from the fundamental laws of primitive Chris- 
tianity, conformed more and more unto the world, 
and finally became that which we now see, an 
ornate and costly ecclesiasticism that despises the 
poor, perverts the Gospel, and worships Mammon 
in the name of the Son of the carpenter — an in- 
verted Christianity that would feel itself to be in- 
sulted if one should call it Anti-Christ. 


But Epaphras, followed by his whole congre- 
gation — men, women, and children, from the 
gray grandsire to the babe in arms — passed 
through Rome by the Appian Way, until they 
reached the Temple of Vesta, and thence along 
the banks of the Tiber, until they came to the 
iElian Bridge, in solemn procession, with wagons 
and chariots drawing their household goods, and 
grain for seed, and calves, and lambs, goats, and 
poultry, and all iron implements of agriculture 
and of mechanics. And they ended the first day’s 
journey on that spot of ground which was after- 
ward covered by the great temple of St. Peter 
(whom after ages confounded with a Galilean of 
the same name, who was a Christian), and at 
night, under the open heavens, Epaphras held the 
last Christian church service that was ever wit- 
nessed in the City of the Caesars. 





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FINIS 


259 


And day after day they pursued their journey, 
and night after night their songs and prayers as- 
cended unto heaven. 

And so they went through Italy, and crossed 
the Alps, and journeyed into Gaul, until, about the 
close of the first month, they reached Lutetia, and 
here for a short space they tarried, building and 
buying ships wherewith to continue their exodus 
down the river and over the sea. 

And night after night came the deacons, saying 
unto Epaphras: 

“ Father, whither dost thou lead us?” 

And night after night Epaphras answered, 
saying : 

“ Beyond the limits of the Roman Empire unto 
some land wherein we may serve the Lord.” 

And the boats were completed, the people em- 
barked, with their implements of agriculture, 
their personal property, their mechanics’ tools, 
their calves, and sheep, and goats, and their 
poultry, and, with the flowing river, they wan- 
dered to the sea. 

And at last the vast expanse of waters lay out- 
spread before them, and the deacons came to 
Epaphras, saying: 

“ Father, whither dost thou lead us now? ” for 
the ships were small and the waters great. 

And Epaphras said again: 

“ Beyond the limits of the Roman Empire unto 


260 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


some land wherein we may serve the Lord. Cast 
off! Hoist sail! Trust God!” 

And slowly the ships drove over against the 
coast of Britain, and they coasted westerly until 
they came upon a long peninsula trending south- 
wardly, and they doubled that point, and the sea 
spread out before them. 

And afterward they coasted northwardly, until 
they passed the wall of Severus, that marked the 
extreme limits of the Roman power, and the 
people of that land refused to receive them or to 
permit them to land upon their shores. 

Then came the deacons, distressfully, and said 
unto Epaphras: 

“Father, whither dost thou lead us now?” 

The presbyter stood up and prayed, and after- 
ward he answered them, saying : 

“ Whithersoever the Lord shall guide us. Cast 
off! Hoist sail!” 

A wind from the west drove off the ships from 
that inhospitable coast. And days and nights they 
were on the deep, when suddenly a land appeared 
before them. There was a long, low line of fer- 
tile soil, and abrupt mountains, and numerous 
sparkling rivers, and a mighty sweep of forests; 
and the land was beautiful. Then cried Epaphras 
from the foremost ship : “ It is a virgin land, 
where Rome’s imperial eagles never flew! Be- 
hold our pleasant home ! ” 


FINIS 


261 

And they made land safely; and they disem- 
barked, and found no man, but deer, and quail, 
and partridges, and grouse, and abundant fish. 

And first of all they unloaded the ships, and by 
the request of Epaphras they brake every boat in 
pieces; and their camp was pitched far inland; and 
they began to build cottages and to prepare the 
ground for seed. 

Then went Epaphras, and with his own hand he 
cut a stone from the mountain, and he fashioned it 
with tools, and drew it unto a convenient place; 
and he called them all to look upon it; and they 
said unto him: “What is that, Epaphras?’’ 

And he said : “ I lay here the corner-stone of a 

Christian church; who will build thereon?” 

And straightway every able man quarried a 
stone and brought it thither, and the church grew 
from day to day. 

And their lambs, and kids, and calves, and poul- 
try grew to flocks and herds. 

And they set a watch upon the loftiest peak of 
the mountain night and day, and as often as any 
ship appeared in the offing the man Epaphras 
prayed unto God, and a mist came up out of the 
sea and covered all the island, so that no ship 
could find haven or land thereon. 

They had a church, and a school; and held all 
things in common except wives, even as Jesus com- 
manded; and they prospered in all things, serving 


262 DORCAS, DAUGHTER OF FAUSTINA 


God in the beauty of holiness ; until the man Epa- 
phras grew old and died, having enjoined upon 
them that they should build no ships, and should 
pray for the mists to rise whenever ships might 
come in sight, unless they should be wrecked or in 
distress. 

And the people elected Marcellus to be pres- 
byter; and he followed in the way of Epaphras; 
and the people builded no ships ; and the presbyter 
raised the mists to hide the island when any ships 
hove in sight ; and the people were happy, prosper- 
ous and free. 

But the presbyter Marcellus grew old and died, 
and Dorcas with him; and others succeeded him 
in the sacred office, until, about the year 400 came 
in new generations of men that forsook the tradi- 
tion of their fathers, and permitted ships to land 
upon the island, and did not pray that God would 
send the mist to hide it; and more and more they 
held intercourse with ships of Britain and of 
Rome; and in the year 412 they had their pres- 
byter converted into a bishop, and sent him unto 
the Ecumenical Council at Arles; and he returned 
with a new system that prevailed throughout the 
Roman Empire; and they more and more aban- 
doned the customs of their fathers; and more and 
more they conformed unto the imperial laws con- 
cerning war, slavery and private property-rights; 
and thaumaturgy failed from among them; and 


FINIS 


263 


the church was received into Communion with the 
ecclesiastical system established by Constantine, 
and secularized through and through. 

Then the Kingdom of Heaven ceased every- 
where on earth, and the last of the primitive 
churches forsook Christ, and conformed unto the 
world. 

When shall His kingdom again come in very 
truth upon the Earth ? 






















































































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